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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983869">Hail to the Stag Kings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyMaelstrom711/pseuds/DeadlyMaelstrom711'>DeadlyMaelstrom711</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Drama &amp; Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:13:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyMaelstrom711/pseuds/DeadlyMaelstrom711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 800 years since the War for Westeros came to an end. Prince Daemon and his older brother King Argilac IV are the last of House Baratheon. However, Argilac proves to be a tyrant. Can Daemon save the kingdom before it is too late? Or is House Baratheon doomed to suffer the same fate as its predecessor? Sequel to Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Winds of Bad Omen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Hey guys, guess who is back at it again with another attempt at writing fanfiction? It's been over three (almost four) months since I finished my first Game of Thrones story and there's been quite a deal of ruckus going on in the world, but concerning having to maintain a full-time USPS job amidst the COVID-19 pandemic (yes, I'm one of those essential workers on the frontlines where so far there have been 19 confirmed cases where I'm at but so far we have had no reports of more cases emerg</strong> <strong>ing in the past 28+ days) being felt at home and abroad I haven't been able to post anything for quite some time so I might be a little rusty–which in my description can be interpreted as a heads-up apology for any grammatical errors if any are seen.</strong></p>
<p><strong>Full Summary:</strong> 800 years after the War for Westeros came to an end, the Seven Kingdoms have since been unified to become officially known as the Kingdom of Westeros. But despite having entered an industrial age, the Baratheon dynasty is threatened and now faces total collapse. Rebellion! A revolution is in the making! Prince Daemon Baratheon and his older brother King Argilac IV are the last living descendants of King Daveth I the Great. Upon ascending to monarchy, however, Argilac proves to be a tyrannical ruler—whose excessive cruelty, viciousness and despotism have caused unprecedented suffering throughout the nation. Can Daemon stop his brother and help lead the revolution to save the kingdom like his legendary ancestor did before it is too late? Or is House Baratheon doomed to suffer the same fate as its predecessor?</p>
<p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I do not own any of the Game of Thrones characters in the story or from any of the <em>A Song of Ice and Fire </em>novels. Only the OCs included are mine.</p>
<p>---------</p>
<p><em><strong><span class="u">DAEMON BARATHEON</span><br/>
</strong></em><strong>Titles:</strong> Prince<br/>
<strong>Date of Birth:</strong> 1105 AC<br/>
<strong>Gender:</strong> Male<br/>
<strong>Origin:</strong> Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands, Westeros<br/>
<strong>Hair color:</strong> Black<br/>
<strong>Eye color:</strong> Blue<br/>
<strong>Allegiance:</strong> House Baratheon of King's Landing<br/>
<strong>Ethnicity:</strong> Half-Andal, Half-Valyrian<br/>
<strong>Religion:</strong> Faith of the Seven<br/>
<strong>Parents:</strong> Shiera III Baratheon &amp; Jaerys Velaryon<br/>
<strong>Siblings:</strong> Argilac IV</p>
<p>---------</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>YEAR 1123 AC</strong> </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>King's Landing, capital of the Kingdom of Westeros…</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p>Today marked the fourth anniversary of the unfortunate death of Queen Shiera of the House Baratheon, the Third of Her Name. She had passed away after a prolonged sudden battle with a mysterious illness at 44. Despite passaging time since her death, the common folk still mourn for losing such a beloved popular monarch and would often sing sad songs in the streets such as 'Oh Queen Mother' or 'Shiera the Pure.'</p>
<p>Today should have been a moment of prayer… but misery and despair had engulfed the kingdom.</p>
<p>For the past century, the Age of Industry saw a significant rise in Westeros becoming more technologically advanced; from Dorne to the North, great machinery brought wealth to the rich and powerful—but such recent acceleration had come at the cost of human dignity with the eventual rise of much larger slums in Flea Bottom; many downtrodden residents instead refer to this day as the Age of Oppression. With the ascension of Queen Shiera's eldest son Argilac to the throne as King Argilac the Fourth, he appeared to have the makings of a great ruler—only to be met with disappointment when his true colors had shown and realized he turned out to be a most unfortunate successor. Once he had assumed power, Argilac taxed the people heavily, forced people to work long hours in factories with the addition of child labor, sidelined the Westerosi Parliament and has repeatedly prevented their calls for a Great Council from taking place… worse still was that he was exceedingly cruel in his punishments of those who dared speak up against him: imprisonment or death… but only after being subjected to such brutal torture first.</p>
<p>Fear, terror… King Argilac of the House Baratheon, the Fourth of His Name ruled with an iron fist these past four years.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—At the Red Keep—</strong>
</p>
<p>Within the halls of the Red Keep, an elderly servant arrived in one room to awaken a certain individual. Jarger, a man well into his late 60s, had been in servitude to the royal family since the reign of Argilac's mother, his grandfather King Ormund II, and great-grandfather King Robert VIII. Tasked with catering to the care of House Baratheon's children, Jarger dutifully himself to them as their attendant. Noticing the enormous bed beside him was still occupied, Jarger could not help but not feel surprised at the sleeping youth's laziness. Having pulled back the shades to the bedchamber's window, he briefly gazed out to the streets below.</p>
<p>"Another day, another moment of sorrow. What a dreadfully sorry sight," the old man sighed with regret. Perhaps he was a bit too loud as his remark's caused a stir. Indeed, Jarger noticed the bed shift slightly with an audible groan. "Finally awake, are you? We finally have a rather beautiful day now that the dreadful rainstorm passed. We should not waste such a respite in bed, wouldn't you say?" he asked.</p>
<p>With that, Jarger pulled the covers to reveal a groggy eighteen-year-old Prince. Daemon Baratheon was the younger son of Queen Shiera III and her consort Jaerys Velaryon of Driftmark—making him second-in-line to the throne behind his older brother King Argilac IV. Both Baratheon brothers were never close in their childhood; although it has never been explicitly mentioned or discussed among the populace, it has been implied that Argilac bullied and abused Daemon physically or emotionally when they were children. Because of that, the young Prince made certain to keep his distance from his brother.</p>
<p>"Mmm… what? Oh, five more minutes, Jarger," Daemon groaned with a yawn.</p>
<p>"Now that is not how a Prince of your stature should behave. Come now. You have a busy day ahead. Rise and shine," he replied before ripping the sheets off.</p>
<p>Daemon's eyes narrowed as he held one hand up to shield himself from the bright rays of the sun. But at the foot of his bed awoke his furry companion.</p>
<p>Jarger, upon seeing the dog, rolled his eyes. <em>What a pair. A dog takes after its master.</em></p>
<p>Now fully awake, the youthful royal stretched his arms, groaning before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Haaah! Mmmm! Come on, boy. If I have to get up, so do you," he called out.</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*"</p>
<p>Jarger nodded approvingly before walking over to the Prince's closet and emerging with a set of royal attire. "Good. Now, if you would be so kind as to please follow me. Perhaps we can find some appropriate clothing for today's activities."</p>
<p>Daemon looked despondent at the reminder of what today was. "It's… still hard to believe that she's gone," he said, almost saddened.</p>
<p>"I know, Your Highness. What happened… It was truly a tragic day for us all," the servant replied sympathetically. "Queen Shiera—Seven blessings on her kind soul—was well-loved by all in the kingdom. A rare flower in this world. I still remember the day your mother was just a girl. Your grandfather doted upon her every day. Your father worshipped the very ground she walked on. I watched her grow into a kind woman who treated all like her own children. We will miss her for generations to come."</p>
<p>
  <em>Mother…</em>
</p>
<p>"But she wouldn't want any child of her own to continue grieving. No, she would wish to see you grow and thrive and live joyful lives."</p>
<p>"I know. That does not make things any easier," Daemon nodded. He shook his head, wanting to not think about it any longer. "Wait… you mentioned a busy schedule. What's on the agenda?"</p>
<p>Jarger nodded as he took out his notes. "Yes. You have been asked to address a special session of parliament and answer a series of questions regarding the memorial service before testifying before the Finance Committee regarding the kingdom's examination of this fiscal year's budget. After that, Professor Samson insisted you will tutor a history class session at the University of King's Landing with him for four hours."</p>
<p>"Do I have to?" he complained.</p>
<p>"Yes, Your Highness. You <em>must</em>," he said almost sternly. "If it's any consolation, I'm told that Lady Sharra Arryn and the Vale delegation has just arrived to convene with parliament this morning. She has requested your presence personally. No doubt she is waiting for you in the garden."</p>
<p>Sharra! He had not seen her in over 9 years. Of course, she would come on such an important day. Both Daemon and Sharra are childhood friends and have remained close throughout the years; her mother—the late Wardeness Alayne Arryn—was a handmaiden to his grandmother Queen Consort Elesra Stark, who often brought her daughter to court with her. Both Arryn and Baratheon children were inseparable, whether playing with each other in the gardens or sharing secrets… King Ormund II and Queen Elesra often mention with Sharra's grandparents Warden Artys Arryn and Lady Rowena Hardyng that their respective grandson and granddaughter would one day make a suitable match, flattering the Vale delegation. However, after Artys and Rowena died after a bout of cholera during the Great Spring Sickness, any talks of a possible arranged marriage soon ceased.</p>
<p>And it was because of that Alayne brought Sharra back to the Eyrie with her. Last he heard, Wardeness Arryn's health was failing her, and her daughter was being groomed to succeed her.</p>
<p>"She… She's here?" Daemon asked rather surprised.</p>
<p>Jarger nodded. "I thought that might get your attention. No doubt you will wish to look your best for your young… ahem, 'lady friend'." He then unveiled two outfits: a slim, elegant black leather renaissance jacket with faux leather inset accent accompanied with a silver stag pin, top-quality faux leather gauntlets and belt, black drawstring pants, black leather boots; the second option was a practical yellow and red tunic with a symmetric cut consisting of loose sleeves smoothly integrated into the tunic and brown riding pants.</p>
<p>Daemon examined both outfits closely before selecting the elegant outfit, sliding his arms through the sleeves and fastening the buckles on his belt and boots. Once buttoning his jacket, the Prince looked in the mirror. On normal days, he would not care how he looked – but for parliament, for Sharra Arryn… he will make an exception.</p>
<p>"Ah! Good choice, Your Highness. An exquisite ensemble, if I may say so. Lady Arryn is sure to find you most dashing in it."</p>
<p>"Jarger!" Daemon blushed.</p>
<p>"A harmless jab, Your Highness. A harmless jab. Anyhow, perhaps you ought to make your way to her now."</p>
<p>"Perhaps I should." He looked at his dog. "Come, boy. Let's go see our friend."</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*"</p>
<p>Daemon moved to leave the room with his canine companion in tow. As he pushed on the door and prepared to exit, he heard Jarger call out to him once more.</p>
<p>"Oh! One more thing: I would strongly recommend that you avoid your brother today. King Argilac is rumored to be in an even greater ill temper."</p>
<p>
  <em>Ugh! That's one way of putting it; that's a serious monumental understatement. He gets worse with each passing day.</em>
</p>
<p>"Have a good day, Your Highness."</p>
<p>"Will do. Good day, Jarger."</p>
<p>
  <strong>—At the royal gardens—</strong>
</p>
<p>Even after over 800 years, the Red Keep's gardens have ever flourished—with the new addition of flora and fauna from Mirantibus Spe being added; the exotic birds would chirp sweet songs, and the plants themselves brought more color and life. The horticulturists themselves were very delicate about handling the newly discovered favus mellis. Visiting nobles from across Westeros would comment on how the smell of honey would introduce a request for fresh saplings so extract themselves would be used for their tea.</p>
<p>Daemon himself strolled through the gardens, passing by a few patrolling guardsmen. One-by-one, each saluted the young Prince.</p>
<p>"Good day, Your Highness," one greeted.</p>
<p>"My Prince," another chimed in.</p>
<p>"At your service, my Prince."</p>
<p>"Good day to you, ser," Daemon replied courteously.</p>
<p>Nearby noblewomen often remarked how handsome the passing Prince was, gushing and gossiping about how they would love to offer their maidenheads to him; one of the older ladies even tried to play matchmaker and offer her daughter as a suitable bride. Daemon politely declined the offer, but that did not stop many from complimenting him on his looks or just saying simple greetings.</p>
<p>But today? King Argilac handpicked many of the patrolmen himself as his enforcers to look after his interests and carry out his iron will. Their uniforms distinguished them from the Kingsguard knights or the City Watch: entirely black with silver accents and their obscure helmets covered their faces completely with only the eyes being revealed. Highly-trained, vicious, and just as oppressive as their leader, these men were fanatics—loyal to no man, not even royalty, except to Argilac. This made them even more intimidating. Cruel. Even Daemon made sure to steer clear of them whenever possible.</p>
<p>
  <em>Gods, how did my ancestors handle this? This shit is even worse!</em>
</p>
<p>But then, after fruitlessly searching, there she was!</p>
<p>Lady Sharra Arryn overlooked the city from the garden's highest perch, with only the birds keeping her company. By the Gods, she was lovely with how she wore her white dress with cerulean linings around her collar and waist, wing-like open sleeves, the way her long silky brown hair flowing in the wind, her blue eyes, her smooth light skin, and the white falcon and crescent moon on a blue background necklace she hung around her neck, her curvaceous slender figure, her grace, her intelligence; the tales of her beauty did not exaggerate. They regarded Sharra as one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. Indeed, Daemon heard Alayne set her up with a multitude of suitors seeking her hand in marriage but turned them all away as she did not love any of them. Her looks were one thing, but what separated her from other highborn ladies her age was how incredibly perspective she was. Her mind was sharp as a tack!</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*"</p>
<p>Sharra turned around to see the dog barking. "Well hello you," she smiled. Upon kneeling to pet him, the dog was already licking her cheeks—eliciting a chuckle as she turned away. "Oh my! Brave knight, have you come to protect me?" she said playfully.</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*" the dog wagged its tail.</p>
<p>"You're such a big softie. Aren't you? Aren't you? Yes, you are!"</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*"</p>
<p>Daemon grinned as he made his way over. "Have no fear, my lady. I'll protect you," he boldly declared.</p>
<p>Sharra looked up at him and stood. "Can you now?" she raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. I'm not so sure about that. You don't particularly strike me as… tough. Convince me if you believe otherwise. Perhaps you can provide a demonstration of your prowess?"</p>
<p><em>Oh, you will regret saying that.</em> Daemon smirked. The Prince took both of Sharra's hands in his. Before she could respond, Daemon leaned in close and claimed her lips. Sharra felt her cheeks flushed, her eyes widened with stunned surprise as she was taken aback when the Prince kissed her. After an initial pause, Sharra relented and reciprocated the kiss. Her lips were soft, and the act of affection itself was a gentle one, full of trust, warmth. When the two eventually pulled away to catch their breaths, Daemon brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Well? How was that?" he asked cheekily.</p>
<p>"I… all right, it wasn't bad. Not bad. Just… caught me by surprise is all," she replied. Sharra soon regained her composure; she was serious this time. "I thought you'd never wake up. You certainly took your sweet time doing so. Did Jarger tell you I wanted to speak to you before meeting with the other delegates at parliament?"</p>
<p>Daemon shifted uncomfortably. He knew how intimidating Sharra can be when she's serious. "He did, yes. Why? Did something happen?"</p>
<p>"In a way. You remember how everyone in the capital has been rather upset with your brother, but it's not just King's Landing—all of Westeros seems to be growing angrier at him more than usual. And it's only just the beginning." She sighed with weariness. "Listen, just about a month ago when the Prime Minister called to convene a parliamentary session, we heard a rather disturbing rumor."</p>
<p>"What rumor?"</p>
<p>"That King Argilac had executed his seventh Hand, Lord Wilmund Bracken, for a supposed slight against him. Word has it that the King has been cracking down on what he calls 'unruly dissent' even harder than the last. Restricting individual freedoms, imposing unreasonable curfews… all of it. He even had the tongue of a factory worker ripped out for having the courage to demand safer, cleaner working conditions. He believes that anyone speaking out on his unacceptable behavior is committing an act of treason—which is entirely untrue. Even if the allegations did have merit, you can imagine how people are talking. From Dorne to Winterfell, the rest of us are talking about it all. I fear it might cause a civil war."</p>
<p>"But what can I possibly do? My brother won't listen to anyone."</p>
<p>"I know. Parliament is growing more anxious. That's why I told the Prime Minister and Lord Speaker that you'd address their concerns."</p>
<p>Daemon felt unsure. "Me?"</p>
<p>Sharra nodded. "I know it sounds unfair, and it's asking much. The people, the kingdom… they despise their King. Argilac is a tyrant, but there are some still who care for their Prince. You still have allies if you play your cards right. Can you speak to them? Say something to allay their fears? I'm afraid of what might happen if things don't calm down."</p>
<p>"If… you're certain…"</p>
<p>"I am. Will you do it?"</p>
<p>The Prince pondered at such a request; with the recent rumors spreading around regarding his older brother, the growing unrest, the threat of civil war… By the Gods, things were spiraling out of control. Things were different when his mother and grandfather were alive. He wondered how they would think about the current situation brought on by Argilac. But they are both gone now, as did the last Baratheon Kings and Queens who came and went before him. Daemon and Argilac are the only Baratheons left in existence. But what can he do? He is just one man! He'd be going against his brother, yet even the thought of confronting him in person turns his stomach in knots and sends a chill crawling up and down his spine.</p>
<p>Either way, his decision would leave an impact on what course the kingdom will take. Either way, there is no coming back from what is bound to happen next.</p>
<p>"Alright. I'll do it," Daemon conceded.</p>
<p>Sharra smiled. "You will? Oh! Thank you, Daemon," she breathed a sigh of relief. <em>Perhaps this will give Argilac a moment of pause. Even if he does not, then surely the Prime Minister will buy us some time to prepare. By my ancestors, on my honor as an Arryn, let us pray that the Gods will be as merciful this time.</em></p>
<p>Following protocol, as a young man of his stature Daemon politely extended his arm out to Sharra – which she responded by sliding her arm through to lock around Daemon's. Both strolled through the gardens until they walked out the Red Keep's gates down Aegon's High Hill before arriving at a carriage which was closely guarded by House Arryn's chosen bodyguards.</p>
<p>"The Vale delegation stands ready. We are prepared to depart at your word, my lady," one of them said.</p>
<p>"Good," she said. "Take us to the Street of the Sisters post haste."</p>
<p>"At once, my lady. Alright, lads! Saddle up!"</p>
<p>Sharra crawled into the carriage with Daemon following closely behind her. They were seated across each other when the door was shut and the carriage started moving towards their destination: the Westerosi Parliament on the Street of the Sisters in the center of King's Landing near the Great Sept of Baelor and the Dragonpit. No doubt the other members of parliament will be there to discuss recent events – all of whom made both youths feel uncertain.</p>
<p>"I still can't believe your brother could have had Lord Bracken executed. The man was simply doing his duty," Sharra whispered.</p>
<p>Daemon nodded. "I know. Sometimes I don't understand what goes through Argilac's head… like, something caused him to be this way. But I doubt it. He's treated everyone the way he does ever since we were little. 'The younger bows before the elder,' he'd always say. Said it right before he beat me every single time. Never let me forget it."</p>
<p>"Just because he was born ahead of you doesn't mean he has to rub it in every chance he gets."</p>
<p>"I know, right?" he exasperated. "So… who else knows about this gathering, other than the Prime Minister and Lord Speaker? Or anyone in parliament for that matter?"</p>
<p>"I told Professor Samson," Sharra explained. "He might be one of the university's best lecturers, but he's a former soldier <em>and</em> a war hero. He'll be there to support you if something goes wrong."</p>
<p>"Just wouldn't feel right without him. Let's hope nothing further complicates matters than it already has."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aggressive Negotiations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tensions reach a boiling point.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>—At the Westeroi Parl</strong> <strong>iament</strong> <strong>—</strong></p>
<p>The Westerosi Parliament, the kingdom's officially acknowledged legislative body was founded 220 years ago in 903 AC following the ratification of the Acts of Union law signed and decreed by King Steffon VII Baratheon, known historically as Steffon the Wise – allowing the Great Houses' high lords and ladies and even lesser ones to have a say in the governing of the realm with Steffon's good friend and then-Hand of the King Lord Gerold Lannister serving as the Kingdom of Westeros's first Prime Minister. Each member of parliament from across Westeros would congregate to the Chamber of the Oathkeeper near the Dragonpit for voting on proposed legislation before sending it to the Prime Minister's desk for review; however, because the royal assent is required for any proposal to become law, the Prime Minister themselves often had to advise the reigning monarch and his/her Small Council – to which the monarch can either approve or veto.</p>
<p>Large yet distinctive, the esteemed chamber was once a building full of life and visiting dignitaries along the golden roads of the Street of the Sisters was instead replaced with a multitude of guards and a swarm of demonstrators – demanding answers or otherwise wanting their voices to be heard. Indeed, it was bound to be hell. 1,500 nobles acting as parliamentarians and their court pages sit in the rectangular assembly area as the current Prime Minister, Lord Garland Mallister of Seagard, preparing to take to the podium.</p>
<p>"Before I begin roll call," he began, "it has come to my attention that this afternoon's request from the Finance Committee and the Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on has Braavosi Relations been postponed until next week due to concerns regarding the security of this proud nation and the well-being of its people. Rich and poor, young or old. These are troubling times as you yourselves are no doubt aware with tensions between this distinguished body and the Crown—"</p>
<p>"No shit there's a list of reasons that's in dire need of addressing! The recent rumors surrounding the death of Lord Bracken raises a great deal of concern. The Crown keeps flaunting its responsibility to govern the realm in a more dignified and <em>sensible</em> reason!" exclaimed Ser Reginald Hightower, parliamentarian of High Tower.</p>
<p>"Why bother? As a practical matter, this parliament no longer exists as it were during the days of absolute rule," asked Lady Jenna Blackwood, MP from Raventree Hall. "Who knows where all this madness ends? Next thing you know it's one of us that's—"</p>
<p>"Silence, wench! You speak of treason! What if the wrong people heard you say that?!" shouted Ser Maximillian Florent, MP from Brightwater Keep.</p>
<p>"My lords and ladies!" yelled another.</p>
<p>"Let the Prime Minister speak!" beckoned Lady Briala Greyjoy, MP from Pyke.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"ORDER! ORDER! There will be order!" shouted the Lord Speaker as he banged the gavel on the podium demanding silence.</p>
<p>But for one man leaning against a railing, listening to the bickering, the sight was becoming more unbearable.</p>
<p>"Ugh, madness. Sodding bureaucrats…" groaned Samson, a distinguished history professor at the University of King's Landing and a retired military officer in the Royal Army. A broad-shouldered man well into his late-50s, he is a proven battle commander who led his troops from the rear in countless battles in his youth and rose to national prominence as a war hero during the War against the Band of Twelve in 1089 AC – during which he met and befriended both Jaerys Velaryon and Jon Stark, the future royal consort and Lord of Winterfell respectively.</p>
<p>Because of his tactical prowess in liberating the Stepstones from the band of Lyseni-Tyroshi pirate kings and driving them away from the region, King Ormund III Baratheon personally rewarded Samson with a promotion to the rank of General and soon command of the entire Royal Amy before retiring eight years later. Lifelong military, got the job done, was popular with the troops… Samson had not planned on retiring but was given no choice due to a bad injury sustained in his right knee, resulting in his limp. Upon being honorably discharged, he was hired by the University of King's Landing as a tutor.</p>
<p>"Professor!" someone called out.</p>
<p>Samson turned to see a group of at least ten people standing behind a chain-link guardrail watched closely by two gold cloaks. At the very front was a moderately middle-class shopkeeper with a wooden pad and a piece of paper in his arm. The man was waving him over, hoping to get his attention.</p>
<p>"Yes, what is it?" Samson inquired.</p>
<p>"Would you be so kind as to sign my petition?" he asked. "There's been a 15 percent increase in poverty in King's Landing this year. Too many are without jobs, homes, quality care and are unable to provide for their families, yet our King does nothing. He must be made to care just as his ancestors of old did."</p>
<p>"I'm an old man, lad."</p>
<p>"But you're a war hero! The legendary General Samson the Tenacious. He who took on an entire armada of pirates and sent them scurrying back to the Seventh Hell from whence they came! Surely you must know by now that your name carries a great deal of weight to the people."</p>
<p>"Having my name being used to take advantage in the situation does nothing but sully the cause of those who have well-meaning intentions, but a lack of forethought," Samson dissuaded. Before he could continue, he noticed Sharra Arryn and Daemon Baratheon making their way towards him along with the rest of the Vale delegation. "Ah! There you are, you two!"</p>
<p>"Good morning, professor. I trust all is well today?" Sharra curtsied.</p>
<p>"Hello," Daemon acknowledged.</p>
<p>Samson turned to the petitioners. "As I said, using my name does a great disservice – but perhaps the Prince here would care to help you out," he suggested.</p>
<p>"Wait. Me?" he looked confused.</p>
<p>"Him?" questioned one of the younger female petitioners.</p>
<p>"But he's the King's brother!" seconded another.</p>
<p>"That may be, but I have known him since he was but a small boy. I fought alongside both his father and grandfather for many years. Prince Daemon is a good lad. He is <em>nothing</em> like Argilac, I assure you. Not once ounce of maliciousness or cruelty. He wouldn't harm a fly."</p>
<p>The shopkeeper looked elated. "Oh, in that case, it would be most helpful! Would you sign my petition, Your Highness?" he asked.</p>
<p>Daemon, still puzzled, looked at both Sharra and Samson. Sharra nodded her head in encouragement; Samson, meanwhile, maintained a neutral expression on his face. <em>…'We, the people of Westeros, demand action! Help us in our fight poverty – starting King's Landing where the brunt of…' Seriously? There is only so much a madman can take before it all boils over.</em> "Of course. I'd be happy to sign," he blurted out before taking the ink and quill before writing his signature.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Your Highness. Your support will make all the difference," the leading petitioners bowed before leaving the Chamber of the Oathkeeper with the City Watchmen peacefully escort them out.</p>
<p>"That was truly kind of you, Daemon," Sharra said. "It may not seem that way to others but even one small act can make a difference."</p>
<p>"Indeed, lad. Perhaps your brother will finally realize that you are your own man now. Even Argilac must understand that by now," Samson concurred.</p>
<p>The Prince pouted. "You could've warned me ahead of time before putting me on the spot."</p>
<p>"And ruin the opportune moment to prove yourself independent instead of relying on others? Bah! Your grandfather was against that line of thinking."</p>
<p>"I know, but still…"</p>
<p>"Anyhow, now that you're here, we can get down to business. Did Jarger tell you why you were needed?"</p>
<p>"He said after meeting with parliament I'm to tutor some history class with you. Why?"</p>
<p>Samson sighed exasperatedly. "So, he failed to clarify the 'actual' reason… again. Bloody fool's memory's slowly starting to fade away."</p>
<p>"'Again'? Professor, what is going on? Why am I here?" the Prince started getting suspicious.</p>
<p>But before Samson could answer, another parliamentarian shouted.</p>
<p>"We must appeal to His Grace's reason!"</p>
<p>"'Reason'?! Have you gone daft?! Our <em>King </em>refuses reasoning at every turn!"</p>
<p>All three overheard the ongoing debate on the parliament floor turning more heated as several MPs stood and began shouting over each other.</p>
<p>"That doesn't sound good," Daemon remarked.</p>
<p>Sharra shook her head. "No. It doesn't. Come. We've dallied for too long."</p>
<p>"Agreed," Samson nodded as they neared the inner chamber. "Perhaps your presence there can get them to come to their senses. You've made good progress in studying history so far, even if it was a bit sloppy and you needed more time to prepare – but time is an essence we no longer have now."</p>
<p>"Our ancestors convened at this very spot 800 years ago following the War for Westeros. It was here that King Daveth the Great himself enacted upon a series of reforms that served as the cornerstone of change, but it was King Steffon the Wise and Prime Minister Gerold themselves who introduced the idea of a constitutional monarchy. The checks and balances that were put into place have been slowly chipped away at these last four years. If we don't act now…"</p>
<p>"Sharra, professor… You two know where my loyalties lie."</p>
<p>"We know, lad. But there's still some who aren't convinced. They need a bit of persuading."</p>
<p>"But what can I do? Surely with Prime Minister Mallister's help, we can—"</p>
<p>"Daemon," Sharra interrupted. "Daemon, you're my best friend. You can count on both mine and Professor Samson's support. As does the Vale." She sighed and took a deep breath. "We're on your side. We didn't want to see you put in this situation."</p>
<p>"What situation?"</p>
<p>"The entire Westerosi Parliament and our Prime Minister are trying to call upon another Great Council regarding your brother's madness. They're intending either a regency or a forced abdication. Lord Mallister asked us to approach you on this personally," Samson revealed.</p>
<p>Daemon felt the world shifting around him too rapidly than he was comfortable with; his companions could tell by his body language and facial expressions. He had so many questions roaming through his head. Another attempt at convening a Great Council? They plan to force Argilac—his brother—to step down from the throne? A diplomatic coup d'état? Did Jarger mislead him from the beginning? What was going on?</p>
<p>"But… but it'll be a civil war," he stammered.<em> Please don't make me do this. You're asking me to do something against my own family. Against the realm…</em></p>
<p>"And if we do nothing, then there will be civil war regardless," Samson pointed out.</p>
<p>Sharra didn't like putting her friend in a rough patch, but she had to make him understand. "We can't keep permitting King Argilac from doing what he wants with no accountability on his part. His actions represent a failure to listen. That's why parliament wants to do it peacefully without resorting to violence. We are sworn to uphold the principles of this kingdom, even if the monarchy does not."</p>
<p>"Sharra—"</p>
<p>"I know he's your brother, Daemon, but the people are going to need you one day. You can't afford to sit on the sidelines forever. You need to be ready for any scenario."</p>
<p>By the time they arrived on the Parliament Chamber's floor, the situation looked like it was bound to further escalate into a full-out brawl.</p>
<p>"Coward!"</p>
<p>"King's Landing is a city of cowards!"</p>
<p>"Treason! I'll shut your cock hole!"</p>
<p>"Shut your own! Fuck the Westerlands!"</p>
<p>"Fuck the Reach!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"ORDER! We shall have order!" again demanded a visibly frustrated Lord Speaker.</p>
<p>Prime Minister Mallister, having finally had enough to the political infighting, decided enough was enough. "The motion for parliament is hereby suspended until hostility from the lords of Horn Hill, Crakehall, and Griffin's Roost understand that acts of violence will not be tolerated in this chamber. Remove them from the premises," he echoed to which parliamentary security had the unruly lords escorted out. "We can only judge the future from what we have suffered in the past. More than 1,000 years ago our nation was forged in the crucible of combat. With fire and blood. That all changed when House Targaryen was removed and since then our nation has acted on cooperation to help it heal and move forward. These are rather difficult times. Peace is our objective here… not war."</p>
<p>"How many more of us have to die before this strife ends? How many more meet the same fate as the late Lord Wilmund Bracken, the Hand of the King?" asked Ser Jason Dayne, MP from Starfall. "We need more security before push comes to shove…"</p>
<p>"I believe we may have found a remedy, my lords," Sharra chimed as she took to the stand.</p>
<p>"Ah, Lady Arryn. We were wondering when you were going to show up."</p>
<p>"Pardon my tardiness. If the Prime Minister will allow me five minutes to the floor?"</p>
<p>Lord Mallister looked at her. "Without objection, the parliamentarian from the Eyrie is recognized for five minutes."</p>
<p>As the rest of the Vale delegates too their seats, Sharra shuffled some documents in front of her desk. "Lord Prime Minister, Lord Speaker, my distinguished colleagues. Four years ago, a tragedy struck this nation when we lost a beloved sovereign. Queen Shiera of the House Baratheon, the Third of Her Name, passed away from a prolonged battle with an illness we have not yet seen. We pay tribute to her house and honor her memory. My mother was her handmaiden before she became Lady Paramount of the Vale and Wardness of the East. I have known her since I was a little girl. She was a mother to not just her children but to us all. Since then the Health and Medicinal Research Committee has donated a generous 12 million Gold Dragons in funding to improve the lives of its citizens—nobles and commoners alike. That all changed with the ascension of her firstborn son, King Argilac the Fourth of His Name. Our factory workers report longer hours, unreasonable, unsafe working conditions… Children—little children as young as eight or nine years old—losing access to affordable education and forced into labor to make ends meet or face the risk of being forced to live the rest of their lives out on the streets."</p>
<p>Many of the lords and ladies boo and yell.</p>
<p>"Even as we speak," she continued, "the more the people cry out, the more cruelty our monarch brings down. Three years ago, Argilac had a man's tongue ripped out with hot pincers for having the courage to ask the Crown for fairness. Two months later, he had lords executed for imagined slights and took their wives and daughters as his mistresses, forcing himself on them daily before banishing them into permanent exile when they had bastards in their bellies. I could go on and on, my lords and ladies, but we all know what kind of man Argilac has shown himself to be. That sort of unruly behavior is not tolerated in the Vale. King Argilac believes he sees nothing wrong with what he is doing. He takes great pleasure in it, inflicting pain, misery, and torment on anyone he gets his hands on. Whenever we point out the flaws in his mismanagement of the kingdom, people go 'missing.' Violence! Fear and blood! That's his way of punishing those who call him out on it because we know he's wrong. We're not dimwitted. He's not fit to rule anything!"</p>
<p>"And what do you propose we do about it?" inquired Lady Myranda Tully, MP from Riverrun. "The King has so far curtailed and strictly limited our legislative duties and prevented one Great Council after another from ever occurring. Whatever we decide will affect the outcome of this day."</p>
<p>Sharra turned to Daemon. "I had hoped to find a relative solution to our problems within the Acts of Union's parliamentary bylaws. If it pleases the Prime Minister, I would like to introduce a close friend of mine. Lords and ladies, I yield back the remainder of my time to present to you Queen Shiera's second son, Prince Daemon Baratheon, who has agreed to address parliament."</p>
<p>"Good luck, lad," Samson nudged encouragingly.</p>
<p>Daemon nervously adjusted his collar as he stood on the parliament floor. All eyes were locked on him. By the Gods, he was uncomfortable! As the younger son, he never expected to participate in the game of thrones' political intrigue – but now that he was, Daemon had to essentially step onto the national stage at some point in his life. But why now? Why like this?</p>
<p><em>Gods have mercy. Mother, what do I do? Where do we go from here? </em>"Honorable lords and ladies of the realm, distinguished members of parliament, and The Right Honorable Prime Minister Lord Garland Mallister," he cleared his throat. "You have all been through some of the most… difficult times. I understand that Argilac has been too… preoccupied to treat you as he should. I don't condone acts of violence or any type of mistreatment. Our founding fathers stood against this level of corruption during their time even long before Westeros became a single nation – not seven individual kingdoms. You remember from the history books that my ancestor, King Robert I Baratheon, rebelled and overthrew the ruling royal House Targaryen 800 years ago when Aerys the Mad exhibited the same behavior. But for the time being, I must ask this legislative body to ignore any wild rumors you hear until we get official confirmation."</p>
<p><em>So far so good. You did not shout, you did not threaten, and you are being more sensible</em>, thought Sharra approvingly. <em>It is only a shame you were not the firstborn. Maybe the kingdom might have been better off with you on the throne, not Argilac.</em></p>
<p>Ser Wyman Blackwater, MP from Summerhall, shifted in his seat. "So, you propose we do nothing while your brother continues to trample on us all? Is that what we're hearing from you, Your Highness?"</p>
<p>"I only ask for patience, ser. Calmer heads will prevail, I'm sure of it."</p>
<p>"No offense, Your Highness, but our patience had run out a long time ago. Four years we have had to deal with this. Four. <em>Years</em>! Things were different when Queen Shiera the Pure was alive, Gods have mercy on her soul. She must be rolling in her grave right now if she could see what her two sons have been doing."</p>
<p>Daemon felt a nerve twitch. <em>NEVER talk about my mother like that, bastard! </em>"This coming from a man who's currently on his twelfth marriage?" he retorted.</p>
<p>That comment caused some mix of laughter and scorn; Wyman's face turned to beat red with anger as Sharra looked away embarrassed.</p>
<p>"The Prince of Dragonstone will refrain from using that language in this chamber as it is not only intolerable, but goes against all the rules of procedure," reminded Lord Mallister.</p>
<p>"Apologies, Prime Minister. We've all been under a lot of stress… but I've had to deal with my brother for longer than most. If you answer Argilac with violence, then Argilac will only respond with even greater violence. Too many innocents are already in the caught up in the middle and I don't want to see more of them getting hurt."</p>
<p>"The North sympathizes with your concerns, cousin," remarked Ser Rodrick Stark, MP from Winterfell. "You have a good heart. But sometimes inaction can be just as cruel as the person committing the act of injustice themselves. Right now, we need actions, not words."</p>
<p>"But…"</p>
<p>Another parliamentarian stood. "The nobility of Dorne concurs with the delegate from Winterfell. In accordance to Article 12, Clause 6, Section 4A of the Acts of Union, 'in the event should a reigning monarch start exhibiting any signs of malicious intent or abuse of power or conflict of interest, the Westerosi Parliament shall be given the emergency power and authority needed to call upon a Great Council to resolve the issue.' Written and signed with royal assent by King Steffon VII. We assembled here are all bound by that law your ancestor wrote. Sunspear moves for a vote on assembling a Great Council."</p>
<p>"You're right. We must unite!" echoed another parliamentarian.</p>
<p>This causes a great stir in the assembly. A loud murmur of crescendos into a roar of approval and jeers. Daemon stood stunned and speechless. No one was listening to him despite his pleas. Sharra gently places a calm reassuring hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Daemon. You tried your best, but some people just can't be reasoned with if emotions are running dangerously high," she said apologetically.</p>
<p>"The Iron Islands seconds the motion for a Great Council."</p>
<p>"The motion has been seconded by Lady Briala Greyjoy of Pyke," the Lord Speaker recorded.</p>
<p>"There must be no more delays. No more being sidelined. The motion is on the floor and must be voted upon in this session."</p>
<p>The assembled members of parliament begin to chant.</p>
<p>"Vote now! Vote now! Vote now!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KA-BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The abrupt sound of a musket shot quickly silenced the chant as the Dornish parliamentarian's forehead was suddenly pierced by a tiny ball of lead firing through the air and blood sprayed everywhere. The shot pierced the Dornishman's forehead and he suddenly fell to the ground dead. In an instant, panic and screaming filled the room as a large battalion of Argilac's enforcers led by a tall man wearing a lion great helm; his steel plate was enameled in deep crimson and highlighted in gold with golden sunburts rondels; his cloak was heavy cloth-of-gold clasped with gold miniature lionesses and attached to his left flank was a gilded longsword with a lion head pommel but a gilded musket pistol with the smell of gunpowder emanating from the barrel.</p>
<p>As the shouts and screaming intensified, Samson angrily recognized the man as he removed his helmet. He was around the same age as the professor, but he was shaven head with bushy golden side-whiskers and pale green eyes. The way he stared at people he commanded a powerful presence combined with an intimidating gaze.</p>
<p>"General Gerion Lannister," Samson acknowledged.</p>
<p>The name alone sparked a sense of terror. Gerion Lannister is a cold, calculating and ruthless man who ruled over his dominion as Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West; yet he was currently a prominent high-ranking General in the Royal Army of Westeros with a reputation for ruthless efficiency, earning the epithet 'the jaws of my army' from King Argilac. Indeed, if he were to burn down an entire city to rout the enemy, he would do it without a moment's pause. No fear, no hesitation, no mercy.</p>
<p>"There will no longer be a vote of any measure being carried out within this chamber," Gerion coldly announced.</p>
<p><em>Oh, my Gods… He-he just killed him</em>, Sharra's mind raced.</p>
<p>"G-General! What are you doing?!" shouted Daemon with shock in his voice.</p>
<p>"General Lannister! What is the meaning of this?!" demanded the Prime Minister.</p>
<p>Gerion ignored their calls. "By order of His Grace, Argilac of the House Baratheon, the Fourth of His Name, King of Westeros and Protector of the Realm, the Westerosi Parliament is officially dissolved effective immediately. All in attendance are to hereby be taken into custody for trial."</p>
<p>"On what charges?!"</p>
<p>"Treason." He turned to his men. "Take them away. If they resist, shoot them. Return the Prince to his chambers and make sure he stays there like a good lad. His lady friend can join the rest of the traitors."</p>
<p><em>Traitors? Have you gone mad?! </em>"You can't do this!" Sharra protested.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>One backhand and Sharra spun to the ground. Daemon rushed to her, but his arms were roughly grabbed by a multitude of his brother's soldiers. No matter how hard he resisted, their grip on him was tight. Gerion cusped the Prince's chin and brought him to eye-level as the guards took Sharra and the other parliamentarians away.</p>
<p>"Perhaps the King has been too lenient with you, Prince Daemon."</p>
<p>"What are you going to do to them?" he questioned.</p>
<p>"That is up to your brother to decide," the Great Lion of the Rock answered. "And to say he is most displeased with your disobedience would be a monumental understatement. The work we are doing here is all in the name of peace."</p>
<p>"This is murder, General! Can't you see what you're doing? You're not bringing peace! You're starting a war!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>One gut punch and Daemon was left gasping for breath.</p>
<p>"Peace can't be made a reality by wearing a velvet glove. You are young, but you still have much to learn. His Grace will see to that personally."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The second chapter has arrived, but the situation has clearly escalated dangerously further. Parliament declared disbanded, the delegates being arrested and accused of treason, and Daemon will soon be brought face-to-face with Argilac himself. How will the descendant of Daveth Baratheon handle this crisis? Find out in the next chapter as Westeros's tyrannical ruler makes an official appearance.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Baratheon Brothers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daemon stands up his older brother, King Argilac IV.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—At the Red Keep—</strong>
</p>
<p>In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Daemon paced around his innermost chambers in confinement. Madness! Madness that had quickly deteriorated so fast before his very eyes.</p>
<p>Parliament abruptly disbanded, its members detained and labeled as traitors to the realm, General Gerion shot and killed MP Quentyn Manwoody in front of everyone in less than a heartbeat, one of his brother's enforcers hitting him in the stomach that caused his passing out… but the sight of Sharra and Samson being hauled away by Argilac's men before losing consciousness… what was he thinking? What was Argilac planning on doing to them? The dishes piled up on the table beneath his window until Daemon demanded the servants leave him alone. Sometimes he wondered how long they kept him locked in his room. Multiple servants came and went, bringing meals, but the sight of food was more than he could bear.</p>
<p>He could see from outside his window a large gathering of protestors near the gates of the Red Keep on the streets below already. He had not seen so many gathering in one place. They must have figured out what had happened. <em>This will not end well. These people do not even realize what Argilac's capable of when you get right in his face like that… Brother, what have you done?</em> he wondered.</p>
<p>When they finally came for him, Daemon could hear their clanking footsteps marching in near-perfect unison. Disciplined, fearless… these men were the elites. It was they who opened his door before slamming it behind them and glared at him menacingly.</p>
<p>"What do you want?" he demanded.</p>
<p>"The King has demanded your presence. Come with us."</p>
<p>"I can escort myself—"</p>
<p>They then drew their swords and flintlocks at him. "Come with us. <em>Now</em>. We will not say it again," the leading one demanded.</p>
<p>"Do are you're bid, boy," chimed another.</p>
<p>"How dare you talk to me in that manner—" Daemon hissed. One tried to grab him by the arm rather roughly, but the Prince yanked it away. "Don't touch me. Take me to my brother then. I demand an immediate audience with him."</p>
<p>One guard turned to their commander. "Captain," he said. They were itching for a fight. They wanted an excuse to exercise their brutality with no risk of reprisal. It was their mandate granted to them by Argilac himself.</p>
<p>"From the way I see it, Prince Daemon," the captain said, "you have two options: you can either come with us of your own volition… or you can come with us in chains, kicking and screaming the whole way. Which do you prefer?"</p>
<p>"Just take me to Argilac already!"</p>
<p>One by one, the fanatical guards surrounded Daemon and escorted him out of his chambers and down a flight of stairs leading into the castle's main courtyards of the lower bailey before crossing the serpentine steps through the middle bailey into the outer yard before arriving at the doors leading directly into the throne room.</p>
<p>The throne room changed drastically since his ancestors' time: where the vine motifs and candelabra once decorated the immense bronze columns with tall windows depicting stags were quickly replaced when Argilac ascended to monarchy; now, the entire hall was modified to mirror the ancient conquerors of House Targaryen during their reign. The vine motifs and candelabra were removed and replaced with large metallic black braziers constantly ablaze; the stained-glass window depicting the seven-pointed star of the Faith of the Seven was changed to a red stained-glass window. But the most prominent feature was behind the throne: hanging atop the walls were the skulls of Drogon the Winged Shadow and Viserion the Undead—who once fought his ancestors and threatened the realm 800 years ago. Although dragons have been declared legally extinct, the levels of destruction and raw power those majestic beasts displayed were forever recorded in the annals of history.</p>
<p>Daemon always felt intimidated whenever he set foot into the throne room, especially with those Targaryen dragon skulls staring down at him. But what disturbed him the most was the sight of the arrested parliament leaders tied up and bound before the foot of the throne itself, with King Argilac staring down at them.</p>
<p>Standing at a massive 6' 7¾" tall, Argilac was considered a giant—even by Baratheon standards. He had long black hair and bright blue eyes with heavy black body hair on his chest and a wild, thick, and fierce beard; broad-shouldered and muscled, Argilac was a powerful fighter—favoring his choice of weapon: wielding a giant spiked iron war hammer of such immense size even his younger brother could not lift it. With rough and hard hands, the King was so strong he could swing his war hammer one-handed or could crush a man's skull with the other. On his face, at age twenty-six, Argilac himself was already a fearless warrior like his ancestors, having fought on the field of battle alongside his father and grandfather. He had the scars to prove it. Being militaristically stern, Argilac had forgone dressing opulently as if to emphasize his royal status; instead, he wore his primarily slate grey and black draconic-looking heavy plate armor with only the great antlered helm placed at his feet… which made him look even more like a demon.</p>
<p>"Think very carefully about your decision, Argilac," Samson suggested.</p>
<p>Argilac rose from the throne, war hammer in hand. His elite troops and Kingsguard were with him, along with General Gerion and his Lannister guards. The sight of them was enough to unnerve anyone. "You will refer to me as 'Your Grace'. I am the King! My conscience is clear, old man. Do not question me again!" He turned to Gerion. "Bring the other traitors into the courtyard and execute them one-by-one via firing squad. Start with the Prime Minister, and if more resist, kill them all."</p>
<p>"At once, Your Grace," Gerion acknowledged.</p>
<p>"This is wrong!" Sharra protested.</p>
<p>"You can't do this!" shouted Samson.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Ngh!"</p>
<p>One of the King's elite guards went around Samson and bashed him behind his crippled knee, sending him to the ground in pain.</p>
<p>"Professor!" Sharra exclaimed.</p>
<p>King Argilac's face hardened. "<em>Never</em> tell me what I can and cannot do again. You do not make demands of Kings. Know your place," he warned.</p>
<p>The Lannister troops gathered around the Prime Minister along with most of the high-ranking parliamentary leaders, pushing and shoving them as they either loudly protested at their death sentence or desperately pleaded to Argilac for mercy. Daemon watched in horror as they were being sentenced to death before one of his brother's guards forcibly shoved him forward.</p>
<p>"Keep moving," they warned.</p>
<p>Daemon ignored their aggression. "You… you can't kill those people," he said.</p>
<p>PMs Blackwood, Greyjoy, and Grandison turned to look up at the Prince. Sharra and Samson noticed this too.</p>
<p>"Ah. So, you are their supposed savior. You had all sneaked around behind my back to conspire with the people to oust me from <em>my rightful throne</em> once more? Oh, how deeply you disappoint me," Argilac frowned. "Come closer, little brother."</p>
<p>Even though the two shared a mutual dislike for one another, Daemon felt duty-bound to obey… even though Argilac's sheer size and maliciousness frightened him since childhood. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face, his legs stiffened and found it hard to move. Argilac towered over Daemon in sheer terms of height and mass; the elder Baratheon was 6' 7¾" whereas the younger stood at 5' 11"; Argilac was muscular, yet Daemon was slimmer. The mere sight of him made him briefly break eye contact before lifting one foot in front of the other.</p>
<p>"<em>Come here!</em>"</p>
<p>"Daemon…" Sharra noticed the fear.</p>
<p>"Your Grace— Argilac, please he's just a boy."</p>
<p>The King ignored his former advisors and history lecturer. Daemon again raised his left leg and moved forward. Horror coiled cold icy hands around his throat until he came within proximity of the King himself.</p>
<p>"Look at me," Argilac demanded.</p>
<p>He slowly raised his head to make eye contact.</p>
<p>"Well? Nothing to say?" asked Argilac.</p>
<p>"I… They… We did nothing wrong. We only followed parliamentary procedures in-in accordance with the Acts of Union," Daemon finally answered.</p>
<p>"Ah yes, the same old relic King Steffon himself decreed two centuries ago. Well, consider it <em>un</em>-decreed as of now. No need to follow the dreams of the dead. My word is law – not theirs. They're gone, sleeping soundly beneath the dirt, we're not."</p>
<p>"But their ideals, the embodiment of what our house represents—"</p>
<p>"How long do you intend on pursuing such foolish idealistic notions? You are no longer a child, and it's long past overdue that stop acting like one!" Argilac's voice was low and deep. He gripped his war hammer in his right hand. "But perhaps the fault lies with our mother. Babying you the way she did. Never taught you how to be a proper man at all. Now, look at you: weak. Feeble. You sound just like a bloody woman."</p>
<p>"At least let them go! If you wish to take your anger and frustrations out on someone…"</p>
<p>"Oh, but I will. And you will see firsthand what the consequences of your actions truly look like up close." He turned to his henchmen. "You there. Restrain him."</p>
<p>"Wha—?" Before Daemon could press further, two heavy sets of enforcers wrapped his arms behind him in an armlock. The Prince struggled in their grip, straining and groaning as he struggled to break free. "Get your hands off me! Nggh!" he shouted.</p>
<p>"Let him go!" Sharra shouted.</p>
<p>"Get off him!" exclaimed PM Blackwood.</p>
<p>"Lord Grandison," Argilac said, "you and your colleagues have been accused of committing treason. Although foiled, by plotting a coup d'état in secrecy under the pretense of debating legislation you have jeopardized the security and continuing stability of the kingdom solely for political gain. Do you deny them?"</p>
<p>"I <em>do</em> deny it!" he spat. "All of us were called upon to convene a session of parliament, as your brother said, within the accordance of the Acts of Union! But every single time for the past four years, you stepped outside your role to block us at every turn."</p>
<p>"So, you admit you were conspiring against the crown?"</p>
<p><em>Lord Grandison, please no outbursts</em>, Daemon beckoned.</p>
<p>"You lied to your men, threatened our way of life, took our wives and daughters like a common whore… The misgivings you alone have inflicted on the kingdom was more than enough for an emergency convening as per Article 12, Clause 6, Section 4A."</p>
<p>
  <em>Shut up, my lord. Please, shut up…</em>
</p>
<p>"Silence, fool. You lordlings have always been a meddlesome thorn in my side. An obstacle on my path to glory," Argilac gripped his war hammer and raised it high in the air, causing the other captives to stir and squirm.</p>
<p>"Kill us if you wish, but understand, Argilac," the Lord of Grandview continued, "the world will hear of this. You kill us now, and you will single-handedly tear this country apart. We… are not yours to torment!"</p>
<p>"Everyone in this kingdom… is mine to torment as I please. <em>I</em> AM THE ONLY KING HERE!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>With a single mighty swing, Argilac brought down his war hammer onto Lord Grandison's head, bashing him across the temple as everyone watches, horrified. After taking such a brutal blow to the head, a grievously injured Lord Grandison—a bloody mess; bleeding profusely from his dented head and left eye bulging out of its socket—looks at Daemon.</p>
<p>"Av… enge… us," he croaked.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Argilac again violently swings his war hammer across Lord Grandison's face without hesitation, causing him to crash to the ground as the King continues savagely beating his head repeatedly, shattering his entire skull to pieces before reducing it into a bloody mush. As some screamed in terror and fright at the level of brutality, only Sharra, Samson, and Daemon were shocked into silence; they would only watch as Lord Grandison's graphic and mangled corpse lying in a large pool of bloody brain matter, bone, and an eyeball… with only a slight twitching from one of his hands. There was nothing recognizable left of him at all anymore.</p>
<p>"Oh, Gods… oh by the Gods, he-he just… he killed him. He just killed him," Lady Blackwood spoke horrified.</p>
<p>Argilac smirked at the sight. <em>One more malcontent dealt with. Now there is only them</em>, he redirected his attention towards Sharra. "Ah! Sharra Arryn, it's been over nine years since we last met." He made his way towards her.</p>
<p>No matter how much Sharra tried to move away, Argilac was already standing in front of her. Cupping her cheeks, he surveyed her.</p>
<p><em>No…</em> Daemon's thoughts raced. "No… Get… get away from her," he uttered under his breath. No one could hear him. He unknowingly felt his hands clenching in a tight fist. "Leave… leave her alone…"</p>
<p>"Ahhh… I see the rumors about you do you no justice," Argilac continued. "Indeed. 'The Flower of the Vale.' The loveliest, most beautiful woman in the kingdom. So many men all over Westeros have vied for your attention, asked for your hand. A woman of your stature would make a fine consort, wouldn't you say, boys?"</p>
<p>His enforcers grinned wickedly. "Oh yes, Your Grace," one said.</p>
<p>"With a face, tits, and body like that… who wouldn't have carnal thoughts about her?" chuckled another one.</p>
<p>Sharra roughly shook her head out of his hand. <em>Get away from me! Don't touch me! </em>"You… You're a monster," she said with disgust.</p>
<p>"Now, that wasn't a pleasant thing to say to your King."</p>
<p>"No true King would have said or done the things you have."</p>
<p>"If any other woman—preferably a lowborn peasant—dared to say what you said to me, they would have been tortured or flayed for days on end." Frowning, he turned to his Kingsguard. "What you need is a lesson in… humility. I prefer my mistresses to be submissive. Quiet and obedient. Ser Darvin. Ser Jullen. Hit her."</p>
<p>"ARGILAC!" Samson shouted with pure disgust but could not move as the King's men pinned him down.</p>
<p>Sharra and Daemon's eyes widened; for the younger Baratheon, he knew what was bound to happen. He had seen and heard this many times whenever Argilac took a random woman into her chambers… he could still vaguely hear the screaming, the beatings, the crying… Argilac would bring another lord's wife or daughter and rape them, leaving them to crawl out of the King's bedchamber with cuts and bruises to be visible. Their dresses would be roughly torn, and tears flowed down their cheeks as they sobbed. No matter how hard he wanted to stop his brother, Daemon would always be held back by either Argilac's men or the Kingsguard. His body slowly shook and trembled.</p>
<p>
  <em>No… Not again. Not her…</em>
</p>
<p>"Get away from me! Leave me alone!" he heard Sharra shout at the Kingsguard approaching before they seized her.</p>
<p>"Sharra! Get away from her, scoundrels!" they heard Samson yell out.</p>
<p><em>I will enjoy breaking you. </em>"Leave her face," Argilac commanded. "I like her pretty." <em>Resist if you must. That'll only satisfy me once you're in my bed begging.</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>*POW!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Darvin slammed a fist into Sharra's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, Jullen grabbed her hair and drew his sword before laying the flat of the blade across her thighs, Sharra thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out from the pain. But as Darvin and Jullen kept hitting her, Sharra felt her resolve to start to waiver. Tears welled in her eyes. She soon lost count of the blows.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*POW!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Stop it… stop it," Daemon utters quietly once more. The sound of Sharra's shouts, the sight of her face wincing in pain from the beatings… He felt something brewing inside the pit of his gut beginning to grow.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*POW!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Aw, look at that, Tim! Someone's getting upset," the guard holding the Prince mocked with laughter. The other guards soon joined in laughing, taking delight at belittling Daemon who by now had his face blankly staring at the floor unresponsive, his eyes glued to the guardsmen physically abusing Sharra.</p>
<p>"Boys," the King continued, "make her naked."</p>
<p>"NO!" Sharra screamed.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*RIIIP!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon shot his head up as he saw Darvin and Jullen shove their meaty hands down the front of Sharra's bodice and each gave a respective hard yank. The white and blue silk dress came tearing away to the waist, exposing her breasts. Sharra did not remember falling, yet the next she knew she crossed her arms over her chest, breathing raggedly while she curled into a fetal position. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.</p>
<p>"Daamn! Did you see that?" asked one guardsman.</p>
<p>"I sure did! Her tits are huge!" replied another lecherously.</p>
<p>"*sniffle!*"</p>
<p>It was at that moment that Sharra's resolve broke. Her lip trembled as she sobbed quietly; the embarrassment, the public humiliation… her tormentors looking at her, laughing at her… It was too much. And there was Argilac, licking his lips with lust and desire. This was the result he wanted. Sharra didn't look at any of them, but she could see Daemon looking mortified. Her throat was hoarse but moved her lips to get a voice out.</p>
<p>"Help… help me, Daemon. Please… Daemon, help me…" she pleaded through choked sobs.</p>
<p>The sound of his childhood friend's desperate cries for help caused something inside him to snap. Daemon could feel his fists tightening tighter until his knuckles turned white; the Prince began hyperventilating before clenching his teeth into an angry growl. He flexed his arms, catching the attention of the guardsmen holding him. When they tried to restrain him, they were quickly taken aback with the sudden burst of strength as Daemon finally broke free.</p>
<p>"I. Said. ENOOOUUUUUUGHHHH!" he roared.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon quickly elbowed the guard to his right, and suddenly he was free.</p>
<p>"Gagh! He broke my fucking nose!" exclaimed a guard as he darted back, holding his bleeding face.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Swiftly turning, Daemon decked another in the face and sprinted towards Ser Darvin and Ser Jullen, punching the two Kingsguard knights off of Sharra – prompting the other Kingsguard to draw their swords and Argilac's guards pointing their flintlock muskets and rifles at him. Even Argilac himself was surprised by his younger brother's emotional outburst. Daemon knelt to comfort Sharra, unfastening his leather jacket, and wrapped it around to cover her. Sharra sniffled again before clutching it around her chest, fists bunched hard as Daemon fastened the first few buckles. The leather interior was cold against her skin, but Sharra felt safe with him at her side.</p>
<p>"Daemon…" she choked.</p>
<p>"Are you okay?" he asked concerned.</p>
<p>Sharra did not answer.</p>
<p>"Argilac, you son of a bitch! Leave her alone!" <em>I'll never forget what you did. I'll never forgive you for this! </em>Daemon spat venomously.</p>
<p>"Well, well," Argilac clapped his hands mockingly. "Seems you do have a bit of a backbone after all. Quite a remarkable display of courage there." His mocking grin turned into a deep frown. "But you still have a hard time remembering your place."</p>
<p>Within seconds, Argilac seized Daemon by the throat and lifted him off the ground with his other hand. As the Prince gagged and struggled in his older brother's grip, the tyrant King glared at him as he tightened his hold.</p>
<p>"Still defiant, are you?"</p>
<p>"I… will… <em>never</em> forgive you for this! NEVER! Do you hear me? You impudent fuck?"</p>
<p>"That does it," the King snarled.</p>
<p>Argilac slammed Daemon onto the cold hard ground before snapping his fingers, signaling his guards to rush over—kicking and pounding on Daemon brutally.</p>
<p>"I've changed my mind. Guards, take my brother to the black cells. I'll deal with him and the rest of the traitors first thing in the morning."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So now we have a firsthand glimpse at the interaction between Daemon and his older brother King Argilac IV. For all his childhood, Daemon was terrorized and abused by Argilac… but it wasn't until the sight of his men abusing Sharra Arryn that finally pushed him over the edge and drove him to do what he did. The Baratheon brothers are set to be at war with each other. Stay tuned for more updates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Escape!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daemon and friends escape from jail.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—In the Black Cells—</strong>
</p>
<p>Nightfall.</p>
<p>Daemon—battered, bruised, and only barely conscious—was chained by the wrists with his arms hanging over his head within the darkest cell beneath the Red Keep. Devoid of light, they left the Prince with only his thoughts to keep him company. He had viciously attacked his brother's men and two Kingsguard to save Sharra from further humiliation—but Argilac had quickly overwhelmed him and had his guardsmen brutally beaten regularly. He had sealed his fate: when the sun comes up on the morrow, the execution will begin.</p>
<p><em>Professor… Prime Minister Mallister… Lady Blackwood… </em>"Shar… Sharra…" he coughed in a faint yet hoarse voice.</p>
<p>The City Watchmen standing outside his cell were busy trading banter or getting intoxicated after consuming Dornish red while on duty, often getting into drunken brawls which were later broken up by their senior officer upon hearing the loud commotion. As Daemon faded in and out, he would slip into a dream becoming more frequent the more his eyes closed. He finds himself in the royal gardens of the Red Keep chatting with his friends and other delegates gathering from across Westeros before spotting a raven landing on a nearby branch staring at him, continuously cawing at him. As Daemon leans closer to a better look, he realizes the bird has three eyes.</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …Awaken… »</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wha…? Who are…?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …You must escape… »</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait! Who or what are you?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …Hurry. You have little time… »</strong>
</p>
<p>Strange as the dreams were, a sudden yet loud brawl occurring outside his cell caused Daemon to jerk his head up when he hears it; there were fists thrown, blows landed followed by the echo of grunts and groans before the bodies fell with an audible thud. Those belonged to the gold cloaks assigned to watch him.</p>
<p>"I got the keys," someone whispered.</p>
<p>"Good. Now open the doors, free the Prince, and let us get the hell out of this place," another silently replied.</p>
<p>Daemon heard the mechanical gears in the locks turn until it gave a slight sharp click before the cell door was pushed inward, creaking. His eyes flickered at the sight of three individuals coming to his rescue; the room glowed with the illumination of lit torches. The light hurt his eyes, but he could recognize two of his saviors—donning the guise of jailers. The third's face was covered with a hooded cloak and dressed differently than the others.</p>
<p>"Your Highness!" an old man exclaimed, visibly horrified.</p>
<p>"Ja… Jarger?" the Prince's voice rasped.</p>
<p>"He's in rough shape. Argilac's men did a number on him," the other observed. <em>He needs to see a maester soon.</em> "Come. Help me get him down."</p>
<p>"Professor? How did…?"</p>
<p>"Not that difficult, my Prince. Poor sods lacked both the creativity and judgment to keep down an old man and a cripple," Samson replied. "Now, try to hold still and not to move too much." He and Jarger inserted each key into the wrist shackles' slot, fiddling with left and right turn until the first one clicked. As soon as one arm fell, the other followed suit. When Daemon felt free of his restraints, he stumbled forward before they caught him. "Easy, easy, lad. It will be all right. You're safe now."</p>
<p>"I never realized how far Argilac would go, how far he'd fallen into madness…" Jarger bemoaned.</p>
<p>"Sharra… Where's Sharra?" Daemon looked around.</p>
<p>"I'm here," she stepped from behind Samson and Jarger and removed her hood. Sharra was the third rescuer. She looked a little forlorn considering what Argilac and his troops did to her in the throne room, but Sharra would not bring it upon herself to abandon the one friend to come to her aid. She hugged Daemon, to which he held her close.</p>
<p>"Sharra… I—"</p>
<p><em>He feels guilty. </em>"I know. Say nothing. I know," Sharra dismissed.</p>
<p>"*Woof! Woof!*"</p>
<p>"Hey boy," Daemon noticed his dog jumping up at him, wagging its tail.</p>
<p>"*Whining!*"</p>
<p>"Not to break up this brief reunion," Samson interrupted, "but we can't stay here. We are leaving King's Landing. <em>Now</em>."</p>
<p>"But how?" asked Jarger. "We have no weapons, no armor, we're heavily outnumbered, no support, the city's been locked down tight—"</p>
<p>"Word has already gotten out about what transpired. From Dorne to the Wall, every noble and commoner alike knows what happened. Even as we speak, riots are breaking out. Argilac's men will be too distracted to even notice what is going on at present. The Kingdom of Westeros needs nothing less than a revolution. It needs a new leader, but we can't do that if our heads are not on our shoulders."</p>
<p>"So… there really will be a civil war."</p>
<p>"It would seem so," Sharra concluded.</p>
<p>"But… where will we go?" Daemon asked.</p>
<p>Samson waved his hand, signaling for the group to follow him. "There are miles of hidden passageways running behind the walls and the floors beneath the Red Keep. The ancient Kings of Houses Targaryen and Baratheon knew the ins and outs of every tunnel. But an old acquaintance of mine had installed another on this floor in secrecy during your grandfather's reign. Thought no one would use it until now."</p>
<p>They kept sneaking through each hallway, with only the burning torch lighting their way.</p>
<p>"This… 'acquaintance' of yours, is he friendly?" asked Jarger.</p>
<p>"Depends on your mannerisms. How much the risk is worth taking," he answered. "But our benefactor's situation is more… mutual, yet complicated considering recent events."</p>
<p>Daemon still felt wobbly, even as he leaned on Sharra for support. "I… I should have done more. Back in the throne room. Before any of this happened. I should have done more to stop my brother," he lamented. "I… I am sorry, Sharra. Professor."</p>
<p>"Daemon—"</p>
<p>"I don't think there was nothing any of us could have done, lad. You would've only gotten yourself killed," <em>Maybe I should have taken you away much sooner… as per your mother's request. </em>Samson countered. "The way things are now, Argilac is too powerful to confront head-on. Which is why we must build more alliances for the cause if we are to even have a chance at defeating him. Sharra and I have been discussing it for quite some time now."</p>
<p>Jarger, meanwhile, continued feeling a sense of discomfort. <em>There is always a sinister thing about the black cells. Terrible place for any man to be thrown into.</em></p>
<p>"What's… What'll we do?" asked Daemon.</p>
<p>"As the professor said, we will need to gather as many allies as we can," Sharra stated. "I'll go back to the Vale and tell my mother everything."</p>
<p>"If they help us, we can use the Eyrie as a base of operations while we prepare our next move," Samson agreed. "Besides, the Vale's mountains themselves are impassable and hostile Hill tribes are surrounding the area so the only way in is through the Bloody Gate."</p>
<p>"It's built into a natural choke point where the roadway narrows significantly into a tight ravine. It has been the Eyrie's primary defensive strongpoint for thousands of years. Ser Jarrad Royce has commanded the Bloody Gate garrison for over 20 years. He won't let anyone pass without my mother's approval," Sharra explained. "Many armies tried to take it during the Age of Heroes, but none succeeded."</p>
<p>"But it won't make any difference if we all die down here."</p>
<p>"What about… what about the others?" Daemon inquired.</p>
<p>When they sprawled through the corridor past another wooden door of another cell in their attempt to escape, the group suddenly heard the faintest sound.</p>
<p>"Zalro?! Wilas?! What are—Captain! Someone opened the doors!" someone called out.</p>
<p>"ALL HANDS! PRISONER ESCAPE!" shouted another.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*DING! DING!*</strong>
</p>
<p><em>Shit! They raised the alarm! </em>"Quick! Double time! NOW!" exclaimed Samson in a commanding tone.</p>
<p>The group sped up the pace, fearing more guards would search every level of the Black Cells to snuff them out, almost stumbling over the loose icy stones again in their haste. The dungeons felt like a maze once the group had gone a dozen yards before arriving at an iron gate that closed the passage.</p>
<p>"I got the keys," Jarger came up from behind with the ring of keys in his hands. As the fifth key rattled in the lock, they heard another audible click. He unlocked the gate, pushed it open, and motioned for the others to go through. Samson went through, followed by the dog, then Sharra… and Daemon. He listened to the receding footsteps until he was lost in thought. The old man felt terrible at seeing the Prince's condition being this bad before striding along with them—closing and locking the door behind him.</p>
<p>They soon stopped at a dead end.</p>
<p>"There's nothing here," Sharra mentioned.</p>
<p>"Not quite," Samson dismissed. He moved closer to the wall and removed two slanted stone bricks aside and shoved one hand into the gap.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" asked Daemon.</p>
<p>"This is the spot that leads to the secret passageway out of the Black Cells from here. Only two people in King's Landing know about this, I included. And now, so do the rest of you," Samson explained whilst fiddling with the small mechanical gear hidden in the wall. <em>Thank the Gods at least Argilac was never informed about this place. You listening, Daemon? Your house has produced some of the country's greatest heroes during their time. Your ancestor, King Daveth the Great, was the first to emerge. But your great-great-grandfather… King Durran the Bold, was the last. But you have an even greater ahead of you. You must be prepared. Trained. For you will need them to gather followers and gain the support of the people once you take the first step. The fate of Westeros rests entirely on your shoulders now. They need someone to believe in again. The kingdom needs nothing less than a revolution. </em>"Our benefactors will wait for us on the other side to aid in our escape. Now if I could just — There! I got it!"</p>
<p>Samson quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—Outside the Red Keep—</strong>
</p>
<p>Nearly the entire group watched on as the walls trembled and shook before loudly opening a secret passageway leading to the outside world. Ascending a flight of twisting turnpike stairs, there laid before them the door. Before anyone could reach it, someone on the other end had already pried it open. Lurking on the other side in the dark in moth-eaten brown robes with hoods and torchlights in their left hands surprised the Baratheon and Arryn youths.</p>
<p>"We've been waiting for you, old friend," one said with a thick accent when he saw Samson.</p>
<p>"Apologies for the delay, but the situation has deteriorated faster than I would have liked." The professor turned to the others. "Daemon, Sharra. You remember the Master of Whisperers, Jaqoros Hestohr, and the Master of Ships, Ser Jacaerys Velaryon?" he asked.</p>
<p>Born in the Free City of Braavos, Jaqoros Hestohr was a well-informed information broker in service to the city's magisters and keyholders before advising the Sealord of Braavos in matters of intelligence gathering and espionage. Arguably considered one of the best spymasters in the known world, he soon retired from his job and sailed across the Narrow Sea upon receiving an invitation to the royal Westerosi court of King Ormund III Baratheon, where he was later named Master of Whisperers on the Small Council.</p>
<p>The other benefactor was more familiar to Daemon.</p>
<p>A man now entering his mid-40s with pale skin, greying silver-blond hair, purple eyes, and bearing the sigil of a silver seahorse on a sea-green field on his vest, Ser Jacaerys Velaryon was the youngest brother of Daemon's father Lord Jaerys, the former ruler of the island stronghold of Driftmark before marrying his mother then-Princess Shiera Baratheon. Upon his wife's ascent to the throne as Queen Shiera III, Jaerys passed on House Velaryon's leadership to his sister Lady Saerenys before moving to King's Landing. A natural-born mariner, it has been a long-standing tradition for the sons of House Velaryon to be given a taste of a seafarer's life at a young age. When Shiera and Jaerys both invited Jacaerys to the capital and granted him a seat on the Small Council as Master of Ships, he often took his nephew sailing with him aboard his personal flagship <em>Vhagar</em>.</p>
<p>"Valar morghūlis (All men must die)," spoke Jacaerys in High Valyrian.</p>
<p>Daemon looked at the Master of Ships; he knows him. "Valar… dohaeris (All men… must serve)," he replied in the same tongue. As a child growing up, his father taught him from an early age how to read, write, and speak High Valyrian from old scrolls. "Unc… Uncle Jac!" he limped towards his uncle and embraced him.</p>
<p>"I came as soon as I heard, nephew," Jacaerys comforted him. His face switched from kind to angry. He was furious. <em>So much evil… See what harm your repugnant</em> <em>firstborn has done, brother? </em>"Argilac… that little brat was always a troublesome boy, but this?!"</p>
<p>"Tensions have been high for years. We knew that conflict was inevitable at some point. I tried to stop him, but…"</p>
<p>"My little birds whispered everything that happened in the throne room into my ear. That is all we needed to know," Jaqoros chimed in. "How disappointing it must be to learn that loyalty these days mean nothing to a madman once given a taste of supreme ultimate power, my Prince. I served your grandfather and mother loyally, as we did your brother… for a time. How else would word have traveled so fast to parliament before its disbandment?"</p>
<p>Sharra narrowed her eyes. "Then… <em>you</em> were our inside source? That is how the rest of us learned of Argilac's tyranny in the first place? From you?" she accused, a bit too curtly. "If what you are telling us is true, then… then why haven't you warned us about Lord Gerion? Why didn't you tell us of the General's plans?" Her eyes glanced down to the grass from confused anger to a sadden shame. "Why didn't you stop him in the throne room… before his brutes…?"</p>
<p>"Sharra," Daemon reached out to her. He felt torn up. <em>I'm very sorry, Sharra. I tried my best.</em></p>
<p>"This is not the time to be pointing fingers or accusing anyone of who did what or what might have been. There's no longer a parliament and the Prime Minister is dead," the Master of Whisperers refuted. "What <em>is</em> important is the fact that we're here now. Only a few of your colleagues did somehow take advantage of the confusion caused by the riots and escape their confinements. Lady Blackwood and the Greyjoy lass… With those whisperings, I must buy lives anew each day."</p>
<p>"Your intelligence source is accurate?" asked Jarger.</p>
<p>"Information is key to ensure the survival of all. It can either build or destroy an empire. Information is my greatest weapon. It's good. My little birds make certain of that."</p>
<p>"We already have one ship bound for Gulltown," Jacaerys pointed at one ship chained at a nearby port. "If you move fast enough, you can use the cover of night to slip past the remaining patrols. What's left of your escort should be waiting for you onboard already."</p>
<p>Sharra shook her head. <em>Good. We'll be able to make it back to the Eyrie from there. Argilac will have his due for what he's done to all those innocent people… for what he tried to do to me.</em> "You have my thanks, my lord. The Vale will never forget this," she said before turning to Daemon.</p>
<p>"So… I guess this is… What? Goodbye?" he frowned.</p>
<p>"For now, at least," Sharra sadly confirmed. "I need to get home before it's too late."</p>
<p>"But…" <em>'Don't leave me,' 'I love you,'</em> is what he wanted to tell her. But he could not get the words out, whether it was from the pain he was in or something else.</p>
<p>Sharra must have felt his emotions from the way the Prince was looking at her. <em>Please, Daemon. Don't beg me. Don't make it any harder on me than it already is.</em> "None of us can make any genuine progressive change if we're stuck here in the capital now that parliament is no more. Not while Argilac threatens my family, the Vale, and to all life in Westeros. Rest assured, Daemon, House Arryn will aid you in removing him from the throne." She then glanced down at the dog.</p>
<p>"*Whining!*" the canine pawed at her.</p>
<p>"You take good care of him for me, okay?" she knelt.</p>
<p>"*Woof!*"</p>
<p>"That's a good boy."</p>
<p>"Lady Sharra," Jacaerys mentioned, "it's time."</p>
<p>The heiress to the Vale nodded in acknowledgment and stood up; taking one last glance at Daemon, Jarger, and Samson, Sharra gave a final polite curtsey before turning around and heading to the ship Jacaerys pointed out to her. Daemon felt his heart aching already at the sight of his childhood friend's departure; with the civil war now showing signs of emerging, he was not sure if he would see her again. Mentally he prayed to the deities of the Faith of the Seven for her well-being, but he just could not bear it. Shifting his body weight, Daemon gave a small painful grunt and moved to muster the courage to tell her something no matter how sore he was.</p>
<p>"I love you, Sharra!" he called out.</p>
<p>Sharra stopped mid-track when she heard Daemon mention her name but did not respond or turn around to look at him. Now she felt her own heartbreaking. Her lip started trembling. She shut her eyes when she felt them starting to well up and clutched the Arryn necklace. <em>Why? Damn it, Daemon. Why now? </em>For a few seconds, she appeared a sense of relief at Daemon stepping up more, but Sharra felt now was an inopportune time to make such a confession like that. "I know," was all she could silently muster before arriving at the ship.</p>
<p>Daemon watched as the vessel departed from the dock and sail away into the moonlight. His head slunk with the realization that Sharra Arryn was no longer within sight. Samson and Jarger appeared sympathetic. His uncle soon placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.</p>
<p>"Nyke shifang skorkydoso ao ziry iksos qopsa, yn aōha riña raqiros iksis paktot. Issa syt īlva naejot umbagon isse Daro Vililio mirre. (I understand it's hard to watch her go, but your lady friend is right. It's not safe for any of us to remain in King's Landing.)"</p>
<p>The Prince slowly nodded sadly. "Skoriot gaomagon jī hen kesīr? (Where do we go from here?)" he asked.</p>
<p>"Ao iēdrosa emagon lentor isse se Pāletilla, ñuha valītsos. Lentor Velaryon kessa mīsagon ao. Māzigon lēda nyke. (You still have family in the Driftmark, my boy. House Velaryon will protect you. Come with me.)"</p>
<p>"Nyke… shifang. Kirimvose, ñābranna. (I... understand. Thank you, uncle.)" Daemon wiped his eyes before turning to Jarger and Samson. His face was serious. There was bound to be a reckoning. "Jarger, professor… It's time."</p>
<p>"But where are we going?" the old servant inquired.</p>
<p>"To Driftmark. If it's a fight my brother wants, then he'll get one. Professor, while my uncle leads our navy, I need a general to assemble an army. Can you help me?"</p>
<p>Samson nodded. <em>Shiera, do you see your youngest? You'd be so proud of him. He's finally taken the first step. </em>"Then let us set sail at once… Your Grace."</p>
<p>"Then let's get this show on the road… my Master of War."</p>
<p>
  <strong>—Within the Red Keep—</strong>
</p>
<p>Argilac observed the riots taking place in the streets from the tallest tower of his castle. Crossing his arms, the tyrant stag King smirked with smugness as his enforcers began pointing their muskets at the protestors before squeezing the trigger.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>In perfect unison, his men fired upon the mob, scattering them to all corners, looking for any safety they could find as piles of dead bodies fell to the ground. Once they reloaded, they aimed and fired once more. Even nearby sympathetic City Watchmen were caught in the middle; they were sworn to enforce and uphold the law, but they could not just sit back and watch this slaughter continue. The gold cloaks took up their spears and flintlock pistols and returned fire.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The musket balls dented King's enforcers' armor – causing all-out mayhem to ensue. When both sides came closer, each drew their swords and clashed. However, Argilac's men were provided with better steel plate armor, the finest weaponry, and the training than the gold cloaks. And with the troops provided by Lord Gerion Lannister, the protestors supporting the rebels and those caught in the middle were quicklyrouted without so much of a resistance. It was a massacre.</p>
<p><em>Look at them all. Foolish gnats. They're all weak,</em> Argilac thought. <em>Such a display has the benefit of novelty, but it is too little, too late. This is MY Westeros. MY kingdom. Every realm will obey me, or I shall destroy them. Its people will do as I say… or they will die screaming. And once I gain the power I seek, the power that is mine by right, all the world shall bend to my will… or be crushed under my heel. Nothing will stand in my way. This is MY Westeros. MY kingdom. And I will never give it up. Not to anyone.</em></p>
<p>His thoughts were then interrupted by the small gathering of his generals and advisors led by Gerion himself.</p>
<p>"Report," Argilac ordered.</p>
<p>One of his men stepped forward. "The rabble are being rounded up for questioning, Your Grace. Supposedly, they…"</p>
<p>"They what?"</p>
<p>"Well… I, umm…"</p>
<p>"WELL?!" he barked louder.</p>
<p>"My men have received word that the North, Iron Islands, and the Vale are said to be gathering their forces… as are your allies in the Stormlands, Westerlands and the Reach. It appears that it will be a civil war, after all," Gerion informed the King. "Dorne is mostly staying neutral, but the Riverlands may soon become a problem until a more permanent solution is presented."</p>
<p>"The nobility shall be brought into line and if not, shall be crushed. When an unruly child acts out, the parent disciplines them until they learn to obey," Argilac said rather confidently.</p>
<p>"There is something more."</p>
<p>"Oh?"</p>
<p>"It appears that during the riots, some of the traitorous nobles of the now-defunct parliament have taken the opportunity to escape from their cells. Some of your men were killed, either bludgeoned with anything they could get their hands on or strangled with their chains."</p>
<p>"The wretches… escaped?"</p>
<p>"The jailors meant to be guarding them until their scheduled execution was too busy getting drunk."</p>
<p><em>Fools! Such incompetence!</em> Argilac was slowly becoming angrier and more incensed at the news. "Have those imbeciles executed for their gross mishandling of the situation! And see to it that whoever had those men assigned to guard duty be strung up!" he yelled.</p>
<p>"A-at once, Your Grace," one of the men panicked and scurried off.</p>
<p>"What else?" Argilac demanded.</p>
<p>"We found three men in the Black Cells lying unconscious near the one containing Prince Daemon and the Prince missing."</p>
<p>Argilac clenched his fists tighter. "My little brother… got away?" he seethed.</p>
<p>"Not by himself. He had help… from within," Gerion calmly shook his head. "We have no official confirmation yet, but our latest intelligence reports have suggested that the Master of Whisperers Jaqoros Hestohr and the Master of Ships Ser Jacaerys Velaryon may have had a hand in the escape of Prince Daemon, Sharra Arryn, professor Samson, and the old servant Jarger. My agents are unable to track them at present due to the riots."</p>
<p>"RAAAAAAAAAAARRGH!" Argilac roared. Picking up his war hammer, the King swung with all his might in a blinding fury, smashing pillars and tables and any nearby furniture he could get his hands on. His advisors were frightened by their ruler's temper as they feared they too would be next. When the room was mostly demolished, Argilac threw his hammer down. "Anything else…?" he panted.</p>
<p>"Nearly 200 ships from the Royal Fleet and a third of the Royal Army have defected and are now supporting the rebels."</p>
<p>"Traitors! All of them!" Argilac shook but angrily, yet quickly calmed down. "General Gerion Lannister, have your best hunters find them and kill them. Burn the villages, burn the farms. Let them know what happens when they choose the wrong side. Put a bounty on their heads if you have to."</p>
<p>Gerion nodded. "I already sent my best men after each of them, respectively. My son Loren will be redirecting the loyalists north to bring the traitors to justice."</p>
<p>"Good, good. Then the time to act is now. General Gerion, I hereby grant you command of the entire Royal Army of Westeros and name you Hand of the King. Serve me well and your house will be rewarded handsomely."</p>
<p>"Thank you, Your Grace." Gerion nodded and left to mobilize his armies in the Westerlands.</p>
<p>Argilac, meanwhile, was left alone to stew in his thoughts. "So, Daemon, you wish to play at war, hmm? Fine then. Since you insist on getting in my way… I'll give you my full attention and take away all you hold dear. Enjoy while you can, little brother… because this will be the last time you get in the way of my ambition." <em>And acquiring the power of the greenseer.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A prison escape and both sides are now ready for an all-out civil war. Defectors are revealed as Sharra moves to rally the Vale. Daemon and Argilac appear determined to end the other, but what of the Prince's dreams he has been receiving lately and what of the King's strange obsession with it? What purpose does it serve? Find out in the next chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Assuming the Mantle of Leadership</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daemon Baratheon and Sharra Arryn assume a new role: being a leader.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—<strong>At the Driftmark—</strong></p>
<p>It was a dark, stormy night during the voyage to House Velaryon's ancestral seat of Driftmark. Located in Blackwater Bay west of Dragonstone, Daemon had not set foot on the eponymous island since he was four years old. Samson, now actively out of retirement as Master of War and General leading the rebels' armies, shifted as the Velayron vessel <em>Second Wind</em> cruised past the crashing waves, steadying himself with merely his cane. Jacaerys remained steady and unmoved as <em>Second Wind </em>pressed on; already knowing full well he would be branded a traitor for aiding in his nephew's escape from prison, the Master of Ships dedicated House Velaryon's full support to Daemon's cause as Lord Admiral of the rebels' navy. The rogue Master of Whisperers Jaqoros, however, would maintain connections with his agents for him to operate as the rebels' spymaster.</p>
<p>Sailors hollered and shifted around the ship as Driftmark came closer into view.</p>
<p>Daemon felt his headaches coming more frequently. "Damn dreams…" he muttered. <em>Every night it is the same dream. Why do they keep happening? But… what does this mean for me specifically?</em> Since the escape, the Prince had not had a proper night's sleep. The several seemingly prophetic-like dreams began during his captivity where it always had a vision of a raven with three eyes calling out to him over and over — warning him of impending danger.</p>
<p>"All hands on deck! We're in sight of Driftmark," shouted Jacaerys.</p>
<p>Through the dense stormy mists, Driftmark became more visible. Named after driftwood brought by the tides, the island was low-lying and fertile with shipyards the Master of Ships himself mentioned earlier and settlements including the towns of Hull and Spicetown. True to his word, there were already 200 ships—longships and war galleys—docked; the castle of Driftmark itself was a grim-looking structure, often damp and flooded with dark, salt-stained walls; the second castle, High Tide, was built from pale stone with slender towers crowned with roofs of beaten silver that shined in the sun. When the waters of Blackwater Bay are at high tide, High Tide and the Driftmark become connected only by a causeway.</p>
<p>Once the <em>Second Wind</em> arrived at the port, Daemon was among one of the three to disembark with his trusted canine companion in tow. Accompanied by Samson, Jacaerys, and Jaqoros, the group was greeted by a squadron of Velaryon bannermen.</p>
<p>"Welcome back, my lord," one of them said.</p>
<p>Jacaerys nodded. "It's good to be home on solid ground again, lads. Has the main garrison sent word to my sister?"</p>
<p>"Yes, my lord. Lady Saenyra has been informed of the situation."</p>
<p>"Good. Take us to her at once. We've got a lot to talk about."</p>
<p>"Yes, my lord."</p>
<p>
  <em>Aunt Saenyra? Gods, I have not seen her in quite a while. I wonder how she's been doing lately.</em>
</p>
<p>The Driftmark escorted the team from the docks towards the major road leading to the castle itself. The terrain was moist and slightly muggy with the occasional thunderbolts shooting across the darkened skies; Daemon felt exhausted from having to endure so much in a brief period and still had to be tended to by a maester for the bruises on his body, yet the flashbacks would occur off and on bearing the same warning.</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …You're not safe here. You must keep moving… »</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon shook his head roughly.</p>
<p>"Are you alright, lad?" Jacaerys inquired.</p>
<p>"Iksan sȳz (I'm fine), uncle," he deflected. "I just… I haven't had a good night's sleep."</p>
<p>"Neither of us has had any proper sleep since everything went to hell in a handbasket. But first, you're going to need Maester Lucerys clean you up before doing anything else."</p>
<p>"Uncle—"</p>
<p>"Ser Jacaerys is right, Prince Daemon," Samson agreed. "No one can be of use to anyone if we physically aren't our best should we ever go to war. And the way we stand at present would undermine our efforts in the long run."</p>
<p>"And then there are these… 'dreams' you've been having," Jaqoros mentioned.</p>
<p>"How do you know about them?" the Prince asked.</p>
<p>"You mumble louder than you think. A leader should have a stable mind for strategizing and should maintain focus, not be distracted by something as minor as this. If you are to lead Westeros out of this crisis, then you must rid yourself of these thoughts. Your judgment cannot be clouded."</p>
<p>Daemon rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, and how am I supposed to do that? I can't control when these dreams occur, nor can I know how to expunge them from my mind," he remarked sarcastically.</p>
<p>"Perhaps some old historical records may hint at possible clues… provided <em>any</em> are left intact after the Memorial Fire of 1004 AC incident. But until then we're in the dark."</p>
<p>"I hate being left in the dark."</p>
<p>"No one does." Jaqoros narrowed his eyes. "You still have much on your mind."</p>
<p>"I do. Everyone expects so much from me, from my leadership. I just… I hope I'm ready for this. I don't want to end up like Argilac."</p>
<p><em>He's still concerned about the path ahead of him. </em>"You won't have to carry the burden of leading this revolution alone, although it must feel like it. That is why we are here," Samson interjected. "Every noticeable Baratheon sovereign each had their trials to overcome, and they didn't get to where they were without the support of those they trusted. Here is no different, lad. We must start small before we can further expand."</p>
<p>Jacaerys overheard. "By choosing to come to Driftmark, you've already taken the first step to remove Argilac from the throne. As the Prince of Dragonstone, you already have the support of the noble houses of the Narrow Sea. And here you have a fleet of your own, albeit it is small, but House Velaryon knows how to use them more than Argilac does his."</p>
<p>"But we still need to build more alliances and recruit more followers," Samson noted. "Argilac still controls the largest portion of the Royal Army and the remaining two-thirds of the Royal Fleet. He'd crush us and anyone in his path any time he wants. And with General Gerion Lannister at the helm, there's no telling what lengths he will go to if he wants to keep his power."</p>
<p>"Once my sister hears your case, lēnqar (nephew), we can make the first move in securing more aid. Hope your Arryn friend convinces the Valemen."</p>
<p>"Sharra will pull through on her end," Daemon said. "I've known her mother Lady Arryn for a long time. The knights of the Vale are nigh unstoppable as cavalry and the Brotherhood of Winged Knights are among the best elite guards in the realm."</p>
<p>"Then you'd best convince them. The Vale nobility is a proud, aristocratic bunch." Jacaerys noted the front door leading to the great hall. "We're here."</p>
<p>The group approaches as more guardsmen push open the doors to allow the escort inside. Velaryon guards standing before the Driftmark Throne wore light plate armor; a leather tunic with plates of steel attached to some parts with bluish-green cloaks wrapped around their necks. Daemon eyed the seat of his paternal relatives closely to see Lady Saenyra Velaryon sitting on the throne. Being the middle of the three Velaryon siblings, Saenyra assumed her role as Lady of the Tides, Mistress of Driftmark, and head of House Velaryon when her older brother Jaerys abdicated to marry Queen Shiera III Baratheon.</p>
<p>A woman around 52 years of age, they considered Saenyra a majestic beauty despite her age, with silver-gold hair falling past her waist, pale lilac eyes, and a smooth yet lined face with a slender figure. She had slight wrinkles around the corner of her mouth and eyes but was still considered a lovely woman. She was a clever, capable, proud, fierce, and fearless leader, though only around members of her own family was she warming and welcoming… to a certain degree. As a young adolescent girl, Saenyra admired Jaerys and often got into sibling rivalry disputes with Jacaerys. By adulthood, Saenyra was already a widow with five children of her own—her sons Daenar (20), Rhaemyx (17), Malaenys (11), and Aemon (8); and her daughter Rhaela (15).</p>
<p>Daemon loved his aunt Saenyra. She was there for him throughout most of his childhood and again when his father and mother died, respectively. If he could count on anyone to provide the much needed 'oomph' the rebels needed in naval warfare against Argilac, it would be his aunt, uncle, and cousins. "Sodjisto (Aunt)," he greeted in High Valyrian.</p>
<p>"Dubāzma! (Cousin!)" greeted his younger cousins.</p>
<p>Saenyra, identifying her royal nephew, rose from her seat and made her descent towards the group.</p>
<p>"My lady Velaryon," greeted Samson and Jaqoros respectfully.</p>
<p>The Lady of Driftmark merely ignored the Master of War, Master of Whisperers and Master of Ships, and continued maintaining her concentration solely on Prince Daemon. She eyed him up and down, studying his posture, yet noticed the cuts and bruises on his body and the black circles under his eyes. Saenyra determined that not only had her nephew endured great physical abuse but was suffering from sleep deprivation. It would only be logical that he would seek her out for help.</p>
<p><em>This is no doubt Argilac's doing,</em> Saenyra thought. "Iōragon, ñuha iēnqar. Ōregon nyke. (Arise, my nephew. Embrace me.)" she said.</p>
<p>Daemon rose from kneeling and threw himself into his aunt's warm welcoming arms, holding her close. To Saenyra, Daemon was like a son to her; holding onto her nephew tightly, she could only imagine the horrors he had to endure in King's Landing leading up to the disbandment of the Westerosi Parliament. Saenyra had a close sister-like bond with Queen Shiera III and idolized Jaeyrs. She could not care less of Argilac; she hated and despised her eldest nephew, but she was fonder of her other nephew. She had to protect him… for his father and mother's sake.</p>
<p>"It warms my heart to see you again, nephew, though I wish it were under better circumstances," Saenyra said.</p>
<p>"I missed you too, aunt Sae," Daemon remarked.</p>
<p>"Malaenys, jiōragon īlva Giēñatī Lucerys syt aōha lēkia. (Malaenys, get us Maester Lucerys for your cousin)," she said to her thirdborn. Once the child obliged, Saenyra returned her attention to her nephew. "We'll prepare a warm bath and some food soon. In the meantime, we heard some rather… conflicting reports from the capital. Something about a riot."</p>
<p>"Argilac sent his men to dissolve parliament for attempting to call for a Great Council. There were deaths involved, including Prime Minister Mallister."</p>
<p>"I see. And your lady friend?"</p>
<p>"She… Sharra's gone back to the Eyrie. My brother had his men beat her, tried stripping her naked in front of the court, but… I lost it. I couldn't sit back and watch anymore."</p>
<p><em>What repulsive behavior. Poor girl. </em>"Meaning you had to physically assault the Kingsguard and Argilac's elites to stop it which resulted in the injuries you now bear from them beating you bloody," Saenyra deduced.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"You always were a shy, timid boy when you were younger. However, I am proud of you for standing up for your friend. What was Argilac hoping to gain from getting away with such an atrocity?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. But what we do know for certain is that as long as my brother remains in power, the kingdom will never be safe from him. Everything our ancestors fought for will be for naught. That's why he needs to be removed from the throne."</p>
<p>"And you've come seeking our help."</p>
<p>"That pretty much sums it up, aunt Sae. We cannot stay long, though. As soon as the sun comes up tomorrow morning, we will be departing for Gulltown. From there, we'll go to the Eyrie." <em>I probably shouldn't mention my 'dreams' to her… not yet anyway. I'll need to know more about them first.</em></p>
<p>"Well, you may not have our name—but you have our blood. The blood of Old Valyria runs through your veins as it does ours. We will always be a family," Saenyra said. "Besides, your mother and I somehow suspected that it would have eventually come to this."</p>
<p>Daemon blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked rather confused.</p>
<p>"The relations between you and Argilac have always tense, but if the threat of a civil war were to ever occur… well, Shiera asked Jaerys and me to preserve some things for you." She snapped her fingers, prompting four servants to enter the great hall with a bundle of antiques left in storage. "Nearly 120 years ago, your great-great-grandmother Queen Argella the Historian had these artifacts smuggled out of King's Landing during the Memorial Fire before the incident claimed her life along with many others. They believed these could not fall into the wrong hands. No one has ever used it in so many years. For generations, we tried to keep them safe at your parents' behest as the Keepers of Ancient Knowledge."</p>
<p>"But what are they?"</p>
<p>Saenyra nodded her head. On cue, the servants unraveled the bundles steadily catching the attention of Daemon, Samson, Jacaerys, and Jaqoros. One piece of cloth was pulled back, followed by another, then another until the first antique became visible. The group's eyes steadily widened with surprise as a sheathed longsword was presented to them; the blade's crossguard and rain-guard featured the stag of House Baratheon, the grip and pommel with a lion's head with ruby eyes decorated with Lannister gold. The weapon was approximately eight centuries-old with its past golden color faded away as rust only to be replaced and repaired with garish ornaments with new golden nuggets, cherrywood, and red leather; the blade itself was polished with red and black ripples tracing along the flat end.</p>
<p>"B-by the Father," Samson gasped. "I-is th-that…?"</p>
<p>"Stormbringer, the ancestral sword of House Baratheon," Jaqoros observed. "Forged with Valyrian steel, the blade was first wielded by King Daveth the Great himself more than 800 years ago. The Stag Sedition, Second Greyjoy Rebellion, Bolton Uprising, all the way to the Second War for the Dawn and the War for Westeros… Stormbringer has lived through many battles before being set aside once there were no more major wars—left to gather dust above the fire. We thought it was long gone as with the rest of the other artifacts, but to now learn it was removed from the Andalosian Museum of Natural History and Science… For an ancient relic, it's been surprisingly well-preserved. And modified from the looks of it."</p>
<p>"My… my ancestor used th-this?" Daemon remarked with awe. <em>The craftmanship, the decorum, the metalwork… What a beauty!</em></p>
<p>"Your mother believed that House Baratheon would one day raise a worthy successor to inherit King Daveth the Great's legacy," Jacaerys mentioned. "We initially thought Argilac would be the one, but when his true nature became apparent… Queen Shiera lost all hope in your brother and shifted her attention towards you. But neither she nor our older brother ever got the chance to train you in the art of combat. Her last words before she died were to ensure that we prepared you for the journey. And for the past four years, we in House Velaryon honored her wishes."</p>
<p>"Father… Mother…" <em>Why didn't you tell me?</em></p>
<p>"Did our late Queen leave anything else behind for her youngest son?" inquired Samson.</p>
<p>"Other than necessities, there was little left to salvage," Saenyra shook her head. "But if the end game of yours is to achieve peace and restore balance, then you must fight for it. You will need to establish a formidable opposition. An army, your own Small Council, a new Kingsguard, all of it. Once you start small, expand from there." She then glanced at her nephew. "My question to you is… will you be able to redeem your house's honor; to repair the damage your brother so savagely inflicted upon this nation? Are you willing to take the reins and carry on the legacy of your forebearers? Are you ready to be your mother's son?" she asked. <em>Remember: you cannot lean on anyone to do things for you forever. There can be no sense of dependency.</em></p>
<p>This was overall an important step for him. Already Daemon made his intention of seizing the throne away from his older brother known to his small group upon fleeing King's Landing, but now the challenge was bound to become much harder with each progression. But his aunt and uncle were right about one thing: he can't afford to have people do the work for him; eventually, he'd have to throw himself in the thick of it as his predecessors had during their time… like his mother did. Gazing upon the ancient Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer, the blade of his long-departed ancestor, Daemon gripped the handle, ready to assume the mantle of leadership necessary to lead the revolution.</p>
<p>"Kessa, ñuha riña. Iksan ūbrie. (Yes, my lady. I'm ready.)" Daemon replied. <em>I must do this. For peace, for my house… for everyone. I've got to!</em></p>
<p>Both Saenyra and Jacaerys nodded. "Then in the sight of Gods and men, we hereby proclaim you… Daemon of the House Baratheon, the Sixth of His Name, ruler of the Kingdom of Westeros and Protector of the Realm," they hailed. "Send messenger ravens to every corner of the realm from the Arbor to the Wall. The time has come to choose: Argilac… or Daemon."</p>
<p>—<strong>At the Eyrie—</strong></p>
<p>Sharra shifted nervously her way through the crowded halls of the Eyrie, ancestral seat of House Arryn. The political atmosphere of the castle had changed since coming home; since her appointment as one of the Vale's leading parliamentarians frequently took her away from home, it felt… strange. Almost as if her home were foreign in a certain way. The moon-and-falcon banners hung from the walls, along with the paintings of Arryn lords—both old and new. Among them bore a portrayal of House Arryn's founder Artys I the Falcon Knight, the first ruler of the then-sovereign Kingdom of the Mountain and Vale; another featured the Vale's last King and first Warden of the East, Ronnel Arryn, along with his mother and Sharra's namesake Queen Regent Sharra Arryn; another featured the iconic lords Jon Arryn and his son Robin, Sharra's ancestors; and the last ones displayed her mother, her father Lord Jasper of House Hardyng, her grandfather Lord Artys, her grandmother Rowena of House Royce, and her great-grandmother Lady Alyssa.</p>
<p>As she trekked farther in, the murmurs grew more audible with a rather sizeable assembly of the Vale nobility gathering in the High Hall's main audience chamber near the Arryn throne made of weirwood, with only the Moon Door continuing to exist in the center. As tensions gripped the land, the nobles gossiped about their concerns as soon as word reached them of the civil war. Many had been waiting days and nights to petition the ruling Lady of the Vale, Wardeness Alayne Arryn. Unfortunately, because of her declining health, their pleas remained unheard of.</p>
<p>"Did you hear?" a youthful nobleman asked.</p>
<p>"I did. Such a scandal!" replied an elder noblewoman.</p>
<p>"Ergo, it will be a civil war after all…"</p>
<p>"We've always known that King Argilac was cruel, but to disband parliament and accuse our representatives of treason—"</p>
<p>"Queen Shiera should have summoned a Great Council sooner; perhaps then the problem would have been worked out much faster. Otherwise, we wouldn't indeed be in this mess."</p>
<p>"How? Not even a mother's love could prevent her hand. Would you do the same if any of your children behaved rather poorly?"</p>
<p>"By the Gods, no! No son or daughter of mine would even continue living in my hall! They would have been disowned and cast out as soon as one of them stepped out of line!"</p>
<p>Sharra politely pushed her way past some of them. Gods preserve her. The main hall was a bit too crowded these days. But one gossip quickly caught her attention.</p>
<p>"Wait! Say that again?"</p>
<p>"You heard me. Both Baratheon brothers have taken up arms against each other. A familiar acquaintance informed me that Prince Daemon was crowned King by his relatives at Driftmark."</p>
<p>Sharra momentarily paused. <em>Wait, what? Daemon's called himself what now?</em></p>
<p>"Argilac, Daemon… House Baratheon suffered a decline as soon as Queen Shiera's elder whippersnapper seized control and ran amuck. Doing whatever he pleases. How is one Baratheon going to alter what's already broken?"</p>
<p>"I've heard this lad was weak-willed. No backbone at all."</p>
<p>"So, we've got a madman on one hand and the other, a boy."</p>
<p>That last comment made Sharra visibly angry. She still remembers how Daemon protected her from the failed public humiliation attempt by Argilac's men, how much she values a lifelong friendship with him… the way he kissed her in the garden and his declaration of love for her… <em>You are wrong about him, my lords and ladies. I've known Daemon since we were children. Who are you to judge him in that manner? </em>She brushed them off and made her way to her mother's bedroom. Sharra had to check on her. But as she got closer, she overhead the Brotherhood of Winged Knights discussing strategy with the Vale's military officials.</p>
<p>"Report," requested Ser Rupert Royce, one of the Vale's leading generals.</p>
<p>"The enemy vanguard is converging on the Riverlands at incredible speed. The bulk of which is commanded by General Gerion Lannister's son and heir, Colonel Loreon. Already they are nearly engulfing nearby settlements, scattering the opposition on the front lines…" said Major Petyr Hardyng, a Winged Brotherhood knight and Sharra's cousin. "Ser Jarrad Royce reports our forces were able to repel them from entering the high road leading to the Mountains of the Moon, but at the same time, our armies themselves cannot break the siege as it would leave the Bloody Gate undefended. If this keeps up, the Riverlands will fall to Argilac's horde. And without the Riverlands fertile farms, our troops will starve."</p>
<p>"What of the emissary dispatched to Riverrun?" inquired Ser Jon Waynwood.</p>
<p>"Nothing yet, ser."</p>
<p>"We've yet to hear a response from Lord Bryan Tully," implied Ser Ian Redfort. "We need more help from our neighboring allies."</p>
<p>"The North is too far; the Iron Islands are on the opposite side of the country; Dorne has so far not taken sides—" Petyr noticed Sharra. "Oh! Cousin. Forgive us. We didn't realize you were standing there."</p>
<p>"My lady," the other knights acknowledged.</p>
<p>"There's no need to apologize, sers," Sharra dismissed. "I couldn't help but overhear our situation. Ambassador Tycho has yet to return?"</p>
<p>"We've heard nothing from him in over a week, my lady," Jon said.</p>
<p>Rupert chimed in. "Even as we speak, my lady, we've received numerous calls from the Riverlands but we're unable to move our cavalry through the high road as Colonel Loreon has been making an aggressive march. Stoney Sept, the Golden Tooth, Maidenpool… three of the Riverlands' major strongholds have already fallen to the Lannisters."</p>
<p>"How many troops does Colonel Loreon possess?" Sharra inquired.</p>
<p>"Our scouts report roughly around 80,000 men, half of the main host itself," Rupert said. "However, their main unit has not yet begun to march. I think they must be gathering more troops, suppressing any remaining local resistance, or purging the land of its resources to maintain their supply lines before making the necessary preparations for another push." He points to the center of the map. "Here. Look. Those who fled the battle are said to be converging what's left of their armies here at Harrenhal. While they stage the next line of defense, Seagard, Oldstones, Fairmarket, and the Twins have already sent a splinter force to reinforce Riverrun."</p>
<p>"Could it be possible that Lord Tully expects the Lannisters to ignore Harrenhal and instead target Riverrun?"</p>
<p>"As far as we suspect General Gerion and Colonel Loreon, yes. If Riverrun falls—"</p>
<p>"Then the entire Riverlands will fall," she theorized. "What of Winterfell? Has word been sent to Lord Jon Stark?"</p>
<p>"He's sent his sons Ser Rodrick and Ser Brandon to lead a northern host down the kingsroad. But it will take time for the Northmen to pass Moat Cailin and cross the Neck," Ian mentioned.</p>
<p><em>Ser Rodrick. Gods are praised he made it out of the capital safely.</em> "And how many do the Winter Wolves themselves command?"</p>
<p>"45,000 troops, including the legendary Winter Wolves regiment, plus siege weapons. But timing will be crucial. Even with the room needed to effectively enter the battlefield, General Gerion is as tenacious as he is a ruthless, cunning tactician. He must be up to something."</p>
<p>Sharra hummed as she surveyed the map. "Hmmm. Do what you can. I'll see if I can send word to an old friend of mine. He may be able to help us."</p>
<p>"Does this… 'friend' of yours have ships?" asked Ser Waynwood doubtfully. "The Greyjoys have one of the largest fleets in the kingdom, but they—"</p>
<p>"So does the Master of Ships, Ser Jacaerys of House Velaryon. He and the Master of Whisperers have both defected from the King's side. They're the reason why I made it out of Argilac's clutches."</p>
<p>"And you trust them?"</p>
<p>"No… but two who fled King's Landing with me, I trust with my life. Professor Samson and Prince Daemon."</p>
<p>"How can—"</p>
<p>"Samson was once a respected General in the Royal Army before he retired. His experience as a veteran could be beneficial for our allies. And Daemon is a close childhood friend of mine who protected me from his brother. Doubt him if you must simply due to his relation to Argilac, but he's never let me down before. <em>Not once</em>."</p>
<p>The guardsmen mumbled. "So… what do you suggest, my lady?"</p>
<p>"Send them an invitation," Sharra suggested. "A small strike team could bypass the main host of the Lannister armies laying siege to the Riverlands undetected before they begin to move."</p>
<p>"Very well, my lady. But only if we permit one of our own to observe them to ascertain the truth of their intents. We cannot afford any pretenses lead us astray or spies infiltrating our ranks to plot an assassination."</p>
<p>Sharra sighed and massaged her temples. "Fine, if it's any consolation." She then turned serious. "But fair warning: neither Samson nor Daemon are to be harassed or harmed in any way shape or form. And if I hear otherwise, then it's out the Moon Door."</p>
<p>"As you command, my lady," they acknowledged.</p>
<p>As most of the commanders left, Sharra stopped Petyr for a moment. "Cousin. Wait a moment. I must ask. How fares mother?" she asked.</p>
<p>Petyr sighed doubtfully. "Aunt Alayne… isn't doing so well, cousin. I don't think she has much time left. You… may want to say your last goodbyes to her."</p>
<p>Sharra felt her heartache terribly. <em>Mother… </em>"I… thank you, Petyr. Let me have a moment with her."</p>
<p>"Take as long as you need. I'll be in the high hall."</p>
<p>As Petyr left to join the rest of his comrades, Sharra was left alone to her thoughts. Turning to her mother's room, Sharra pushed the door open to see her mother Alyane Arryn in her bed. Judging from her appearance, the Lady of the Eyrie and Wardeness of the East had been covered in beads of sweat. Her breathing was heavy and labored and her eyes were barely open. For quite some time since leaving King's Landing for the Eyrie following the death of her parents during the Great Spring Sickness, Alayne's health began to decline and was grooming her only child to succeed her one day. She hardly heard her daughter entering the room until she was close enough.</p>
<p>"Mother?" Sharra beckoned.</p>
<p>Alyane breathed heavily and slowly turned her head. "Oh… oh, there she is. My beautiful little girl," she smiled weakly, caressing one hand on Sharra's cheek. "I… I almost forgot how grown-up you've… become…"</p>
<p>"I'm here for you, mother. I came as soon as I heard. Do you… do you need anything? Can I get you some water or something to eat? Are you in any pain? Do you require a maester?"</p>
<p>"It is…. good of you to care for me… at my lowest. But I'm fine, my dearest daughter. Maester Yorwyck… he's said there's nothing left he… could do. The inevitable could be delayed, but… I've decided that… it wasn't worth it," Even at her weakened state, Alayne could still sense Sharra's distress. "Don't worry about me. I'm just… thinking about… things as of late."</p>
<p>"What kind of things?" Sharra asked softly.</p>
<p>"Your life. Do you… do you remember how you… would always beg me to tell you the story <em>The Falcon and the Canary</em> when you were little?"</p>
<p>"I do, mother," she nodded.</p>
<p>"Every day, I'd sit you… on my lap. And whenever I finished, what… what did you always say?"</p>
<p>"'Teach me how to fly'."</p>
<p>Alayne gave a weary chuckle at the memory of her daughter as a child; to her, it felt like a lifetime ago. And now there she was in front of her, a young woman. Sharra had made her proud. A capable politician with the markings of a good ruler, Sharra had already demonstrated her talents at an early age long ago. She would make a fine Lady of the Eyrie… but how her own heart ached with the realization that once Alayne had departed from the world of the living, Sharra would be on her own.</p>
<p>Her daughter would be the last Arryn.</p>
<p>In a split second, Alayne began coughing rather violently.</p>
<p>"Mother!" Sharra panicked.</p>
<p>Alayne shook her head. <em>Well… it seems my time has come much sooner than expected. </em>"I'm so sorry, my little canary. Don't… *gasp* don't worry about me now. Rather… spread your wings and take flight… fly high to the skies, to the future."</p>
<p>"But I want you here with me…"</p>
<p>"I know you do… I want more time with you too, but… but alas, we all must leave the nest… at some point in our lives." Alyane looked more exhausted with each breath. "I knew as soon as you… as soon as you came into this world, you were meant for… for great things."</p>
<p>Sharra had not felt so sad as tears started welling in her eyes. No matter how hard she tried not to show it, her emotions were cracking.</p>
<p>"There, there. Don't be afraid," her mother tried to comfort her. "Death is… only a natural part of life. Something… we're all destined to do. We're born… we live a little while… and when it's our time, our bodies… return to the earth. I… I did the best I could raising you after your father passed."</p>
<p>"You… you did well. You were… you <em>are</em> the best mother a girl could ever ask for," Sharra's voice cracked.</p>
<p>Alayne brought her thumb up and gently wiped away Sharra's tears. "Now, now… don't cry, my canary. I'll always… be with you; even if you can't see me," she closed her eyes as her breathing grew increasingly labored. "Do you remember… our words?"</p>
<p>Sharra nodded. "'As High as Honor'," she answered.</p>
<p>"And do you… remember… what those words mean?"</p>
<p>"To honor is to elevate with recognition such as aspiration, self-challenge, and being one's best self as worthy goals. It requires work to get to where we are. Any isolationist instinct does not represent our better nature, it twists and perverts House Arryn's values. Loyalty and truth. Consciousness, intellect, and calm tranquility. Innocence, faith, purity, and cleanliness. Our better nature arises when an Arryn embodies virtue. Where honor demands, we obey. Honor gives purpose to one's life. By making honor our target, aspiring to reach its heights even if one must fall short, yields worthy contributions. That's what it means to live a good fulfilling life. As high as honor."</p>
<p>"*cough! cough!* Good girl." Alayne then shakingly reaches to her desk and grasps her ringlets, her late husband's coronet, and the ancient Falcon Crown of Mountain and Vale before passing them onto her daughter.</p>
<p>"M-mother?" Sharra choked confused.</p>
<p>"I can feel it coming… I'm going to see your father again… and your grandparents… But I'm afraid you'll be here alone…" Alayne gasped. "My dearest child… you must take my place… as Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale… and Wardeness of the East. When I'm gone… you will rule the Vale." She held her daughter close. "But… promise me one last thing…"</p>
<p>Sharra sniffled. "Anything!"</p>
<p>"When I married your father— *cough! cough!* it was arranged… by your grandparents. We didn't know each other… that well, but… we loved each other. If… if you do decide to… to marry one day, please… do it for love. Find happiness in your life…"</p>
<p>Sharra nodded as she buried her face in her mother's neck. "I… I will try, mother."</p>
<p>"Th-then… that's all I ask… *cough! cough!*" Alayne smiled weakly. "My little girl… has become a woman. I… I love you."</p>
<p>"*hic!* I-I love you too, mother…"</p>
<p>"You've always made me… so very proud…"</p>
<p>Sharra held her mother close as her lip trembled and sniffled into her neck. She held onto her mother's hand for so long she hadn't recognized the faint distinctive sounds of her last breath until she felt Alayne's hand loosening its grip before going limp. Once she finally realized the gravity of the situation, Sharra recognized Alayne's eyes were closed and her breathing ceased. When she gently nudged her, there was no response. When she tried again, nothing. Sharra stared in shock as she understood a harsh, terrible truth.</p>
<p>"Mother? Mother!? MOTHER!" she wailed.</p>
<p>As the Flower of the Vale sobbed into her mother's arms, the word quickly spread throughout the Eyrie. Lady Alayne Arryn, aged 42, ruler of the Vale and Wardeness of the East, had passed away due to illness. She was gone. Come sunrise tomorrow, her daughter Sharra Arryn was to assume her role. In doing so, however, she would be the last of her house.</p>
<p>The last Arryn left in existence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this took so long, guys, but here it is. The latest chapter of "Hail to the Stag Kings"; wherein the story's respective main characters assume the mantle of leadership. With the death of Alayne Arryn, Sharra is the last of her bloodline. And with the revelation of Stormbringer's survival, how will the people react when they see Daemon wielding it? Find out next time in the next chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Vale of Arryn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prince Daemon encounters trouble at the Vale.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Codex Entry:</p>
<p>—The Kingdom of Westeros is a sovereign country located on the continent of Westeros in the far west of the known world. It is separated from the continent of Essos by a strip of water known as the Narrow Sea. Formerly once known as the "Seven Kingdoms", it was unified as a single nation in 305 AC by the political union of the North, Reach, Iron Islands, Vale, Stormlands, Riverlands, Westerlands, and Dorne, ruled by the Kings/Queens of Westeros from their court at the Red Keep in the city of King's Landing.</p>
<p>Originally a feudal absolute hereditary monarchy, it began transitioning into a unitary parliamentary democracy and constitutional monarchy in 903 AC.</p>
<p>The current monarch is King Argilac IV Baratheon, who has reigned since 1119 AC following the death of his mother Queen Shiera III.</p>
<p>—The Andalosinian Throne is the seat of the Kings and Queens of Westeros constructed in 305 AC to replace the Iron Throne after it was destroyed in the Battle of King's Landing during the War for Westeros. The monarchs often hold audiences and dispenses justice from atop it in the Red Keep's throne room in the capital city of King's Landing. Besides the monarchs themselves, only their Hands could sit on it.</p>
<p>Due to the majority of Westerosi monarchs being of Andal descent, the nation's seat of power was popularly referred to as "the Andalosinian Throne."</p>
<p>—*The Great Spring Sickness of 1116 AC was a plague epidemic that severely impacted the Kingdom of Westeros following the Great Spring of 1115 AC, killing tens of thousands of people. According to the survivors, a strong man could wake up healthy in the morning but die a painful death by the evening. This plague also had a devastating effect on the Baratheon dynasty, rendering Houses Baratheon of Storm's End, Dragonstone, and Highgarden legally extinct.</p>
<p>Today, only House Baratheon of King's Landing – the ruling royal house – remained standing.</p>
<p>*In terms of its impact, the Great Spring Sickness is loosely Westeros's analogue of the real-life Black Death, which killed off over a third of the population of Late Medieval Europe (1347-1351).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—Near Gulltown—</strong>
</p>
<p>"We should be within sight of Gulltown soon, Your Highness," called out a rebel sailor.</p>
<p><em>About time. </em>"Very good, ensign," Daemon acknowledged as he stared into the distance. They had been sailing over 410 miles for the past four days since departing Driftmark. Having rid himself of his past indecision, he had his sights set on rendezvousing at the rebels' base of operations in the Vale: the Eyrie.</p>
<p>Although his men-at-arms were vastly smaller and limited in numbers compared to Argilac's army, these rebels were mostly comprised of volunteer forces recruited from his vassals sworn directly to Dragonstone, but by daybreak, Ser Jacaerys had gained an additional 800 longships and 200 war galleys for his younger nephew's navy—bringing the total amount of ships to approximately 1,200. If the rumors were true, then this would give Daemon a significant advantage over his brother by sea. Being the Master of Ships and Lord Admiral of the Royal Fleet, Ser Jacaerys still carried a great deal of influence among those who knew him best and could win over more sailors to the Prince's side. He will put them to good use as the rebels' top naval commander.</p>
<p>"The smallfolk are calling this civil war the 'Clash of Antlers'. Much like the Targaryen's Dance of the Dragons almost a thousand years ago," Jaqoros spoke up.</p>
<p>"Only there were dragons back then, not modern artillery," remarked Samson. Now acting in his capacity as Master of War, the professor had come out of retirement to assume the position as Grand General of the rebel army. Even on the deck of <em>Second Wind</em>, Samson spent much of his time training the volunteer troops in the art of warfare. As a veteran, his years of combat experience were essential. These people were recruits and had never held either a blade or firearm in their lives. "Sergeant! Do not pull any punches with this lot. These cadets need to prepare for an actual fight, not a practice one."</p>
<p>"Yes, General," the soldier acknowledged.</p>
<p>Samson turned his attention to his colleague. "Have your spies turned up anything?" he inquired.</p>
<p>"My little birds report unusual activity in the Riverlands, though not much else. Stoney Sept, the Golden Tooth, Maidenpool… any contacts I have had installed there have gone silent. I suspect the Lannisters are responsible for it on Argilac's behalf, but until we know more… I cannot be certain. Perhaps House Arryn could tell us more."</p>
<p>"Lady Alayne has been our greatest supporter."</p>
<p>Jaqoros nodded in agreement. "Did you hear what else the people are calling him?"</p>
<p>"Who?" asked Samson.</p>
<p>"Prince Daemon. Already the word has spread about his coronation at Driftmark. They're calling him 'the King in the Narrow Sea' – distinguishing himself from his older brother, the King on the Andalosinian Throne."</p>
<p>"Daemon is young, able, and willing, but he still has a long way to go compared to his older brother—who fought on the frontlines with most of us during the last armed conflict. Argilac might be insane, but when it comes to combat experience… that is where he vastly outshines Daemon. He must cajole, make the necessary sacrifices… and he will need to get his hands dirty if left with no other option. Here, in this war, he'll be overwhelmed with all three choices at the same time."</p>
<p>"But it is our duty as his advisors to ensure he doesn't have to bear most of the burden entirely on his shoulders, no?"</p>
<p>"<em>And</em> lend our experience where his own is lacking."</p>
<p>"It is as you said, old friend. Prince Daemon is young but inexperienced. Where he lacks in prowess as a warrior, he at least makes up for it in diplomacy."</p>
<p>Samson huffed. "Still it would be unwise to underestimate Baratheon men. They are fast learners in combat. When they get serious, it is as if instinct itself takes over and consumes them. Trust me, Lord Jaqoros. I have seen it myself firsthand 34 years ago during the War against the Band of Twelve. I still remember seeing King Ormund, wielding that monstrous war hammer high in the air. Every time his hammer struck the ground, it felt as if the world itself trembled before his might."</p>
<p>Jaqoros shuddered. "Eugh. I still remember hearing the reports of the old Westerosi king, even from across the Narrow Sea. 'A one-man army,' 'the strongest man alive', 'flee-on-sight if one should ever encounter the old stag.' That's what the Sealord told me."</p>
<p>"And yet you served him," Samson pointed out.</p>
<p>"We all did," the Braavosi responded. "When one seeks an opportunity, often it lies before their eyes – but sadly is often overlooked. Having such close connections grants one access to much more than what we already have. It's something a Westerosi wouldn't understand."</p>
<p>"Only a Braavosi?"</p>
<p>"No. I learned that during my employment with the Iron Bank."</p>
<p>Jacaerys, ignoring his colleagues' banter, stared beyond the horizon when land became started becoming visible followed by a silhouette of a large walled city. Gulltown, the Vale's largest port, it remained as the fourth largest city behind King's Landing, Oldtown, and Lannisport. The port was a historically important port and economically vital to the Vale, its sheltered harbor offering anchorage to ships traveling from King's Landing to Braavos or the North. Its strategic location means it never lacks for trade in many of the exotic goods making their way from across the Narrow Sea, keeping the Vale supplied even when the passes of the Mountains of the Moon are closed in winter.</p>
<p>"Land ho!" he called out. "All hands, prepare to dock!" <em>Let us hope Lady Arryn received our letter.</em></p>
<p>Daemon snapped out of it. "So here we are… Gulltown."</p>
<p>"We should— wait, there's something strange going on."</p>
<p>The Prince and observed what his uncle was looking at. Indeed, there seemed to be an unusually rather large crowd forming near the port's dock. Commoners, merchants and nobles alike were looking on with curiosity, but mostly suspicion. As the crew slowly disembarked, Daemon felt an uneasy tension in the air. Escorted by his uncle, Samson, and Jaqoros, the Prince contemplated that there would already be an unwelcome scenario given his familial ties with Argilac; Seven hells, this would be a lot tougher than he thought. He needs the Vale's support. He needs House Arryn's support. He needs the <em>people's</em> support.</p>
<p>"Look, mommy! It's him," a little girl whispered.</p>
<p>"THAT's the supposed savior? Huh! How is one Baratheon supposed to make a difference?" one merchant scoffed.</p>
<p>"He shouldn't even be here," uttered a local lord.</p>
<p>"He'll bring the King's wrath down upon us," another chatted.</p>
<p><em>My ancestors would be ashamed to see how far our house has fallen. Damn you, brother. This is all your fault,</em> Daemon thought. "Easy now, everyone. Please. Just hear me out," he beckoned. "For those of you who don't know me well, my name is Prince Daemon of House Baratheon, second son of Queen Shiera the Pure, the Third of Her Name. I come to you under the banner of peace. I mean you no harm."</p>
<p>"That will be up to Lady Arryn to decide," a knight approached with a contingency of guardsmen. "For the time being, you will surrender your weapons and have your ships anchored. Local port authority dictates that uninvited vessels are to be inspected for… 'illegal contraband.'"</p>
<p>"How dare you! Do we look like smugglers to you, lad?" Jacaerys accused rather offended.</p>
<p>"Local port authority dictates—"</p>
<p>"We heard you the first time. And we're telling you no. Who's to say you won't try anything? We're not surrendering our weapons without House Arryn's say-so and we're <em>not</em> letting you seize our ships, nor will we tolerate you treating us like criminals. We've done <em>nothing</em> wrong."</p>
<p>The guardsmen pointed their muskets at them. "If you refuse to cooperate, then we will have no choice but to—"</p>
<p>"Wait!" Daemon shouted. "We wish to plead our case to Lady Alayne Arryn."</p>
<p>The guards were immediately silenced; the onlookers began whispering and murmuring amongst themselves—most appeared to be visibly grief stricken if not somewhat offended by the blatant disrespect at the mere mention of that name. Aside from Daemon, Samson and Jaqoros sensed something was amiss whereas Jacaerys remained adamantly defiant towards the port authorities.</p>
<p>"How dare he…" one lord uttered.</p>
<p>Daemon blinked. "Did… did something happen?" he asked, now concerned.</p>
<p>One guard pointed the tip of his lance at the Prince. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OUR LADY'S NAME—!"</p>
<p>"Men! Stand down!" one of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights approached.</p>
<p>The crowd acknowledged the elite Vale knightly order approaching and stood aside to let them pass. The hostile guardsmen barely noticed until one Brotherhood rode to the front atop his horse. This knight was physically attractive with sandy hair, deep blue eyes. Daemon observed this strange man standing before him. He has an aquiline nose and looked every inch of a young lord-in-waiting: straight as a lance, clean-limbed, and hard with muscle; he wore white armor decorated with a blue sash depicting the red and white diamond arms of House Hardyng and the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn.</p>
<p>"And you are…?" Samson inquired.</p>
<p>"Ser Petyr of House Hardying, major in the Brotherhood of Winged Knights," he introduced himself. "No need to tell us who you are. Nearly the entire Vale has heard of your accomplishments on the Stepstones, General Samson."</p>
<p>The crowd gasped.</p>
<p>"'General Samson'? <em>The</em> Samson?" one chattered.</p>
<p>"Samson the Tenacious!"</p>
<p>"I thought he retired."</p>
<p>Samson sighed. He hated it when people started worshipping him. "Yes, yes. I'm Samson. Consider me out of retirement for the sake of this damn civil war."</p>
<p>"What brings you to the Vale?" Petyr inquired.</p>
<p>"I've been named as Prince Daemon's Master of War and Grand General of the revolution's troops. As I'm sure he <em>repeatedly said</em>, we've come seeking an audience with Lady Arryn. But clearly, something is amiss. Might I ask why?"</p>
<p>Petyr sighed. "Perhaps… it would be best for you lot to come with me to the Vale's Monorail Station. The next one departs for the Eyrie from here. We'll talk more once we arrive there, not here." He turned. "Let's go. The next monorail car is scheduled to leave in 30 minutes."</p>
<p>"What about—?" Daemon tried to speak.</p>
<p>"My cousin Sharra has asked for you," the Young Falcon interrupted. "Don't keep her waiting."</p>
<p>Daemon immediately kept quiet for the rest of the trip to Gull Tower. Upon being granted permission from House Shett, the group accompanied Petyr and his contingent into the monorail car. Constructed over 100 years ago under the supervision of Lord Reginald Arryn, the Vale's Monorail Station was designed to accelerate travel speed from one section of the region to the other in less than half the time rather than take the high road on foot. Centuries ago, the Vale was nothing but mountains and valleys, now people queuing up to ride the monorail to get to where they want to go. Although Daemon was rather excited to ride the monorail for the first time, the only mistake he ever made was by looking out the monorail car's window where he saw nothing but dense cloud and the mountains below. By the Gods, they were so high in the air! A six-hundred-foot drop to the stones of the valley below. The Prince immediately felt nauseous and looked away.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—At the Eyrie—</strong>
</p>
<p>A few hours had passed, but the monorail car arrived at the Bloody Gate; as expected, the Vale maintained a high military presence there. Whether it's to repel an incursion from Argilac's army or the Mountain hilltop tribesmen, security was high. All passengers had to undergo a thorough background check to prevent potential spies from entering. Beyond the Bloody Gate lies the Eyrie, ancestral seat of House Arryn, at the top of the Giant's Lance in the Mountains of the Moon.</p>
<p>"We have arrived," Petyr pointed.</p>
<p>Daemon stood in awe at the Eyrie. One of the great castles in the realm, the Eyrie consisted of a cluster of seven slim white towers made of fine white stone bunched tightly together. Each tower encircled a garden, which had been meant as a godswood, but no weirwood heart tree would take root due to the castle's stony soil. Samson estimated the Eyrie's barracks and stables were carved directly into the mountain, aside from the sound of Alyssa's Tears flooding his ears from a distance.</p>
<p>"Impressive, isn't it?" Jaqoros asked.</p>
<p>Samson hummed. "The mountains are impassable. If you want to get to the Eyrie, you need to go through the Bloody Gate. According to legends, say the Eyrie is impregnable."</p>
<p>"Exactly, General," Petyr agreed. "We Valemen know every inch of the terrain better than anyone else ever could. And we know how to use them. Not even King Argilac would make it past this point. It doesn't matter how large your army is or how well supplied or funded you are if you attack this gate, you do it on this road, three men abreast and get slaughtered like goats," he explained tactically.</p>
<p>"But should one overcome the Bloody Gate guarding the high road, then the Gates of the Moon stands as the Eyrie's last line of defense – but even then the narrow goat trail is guarded by three waycastles: Stone, Snow, and Sky. Know your strengths, use them wisely, and one man can be worth 10,000. It's something Lieutenant Reynold Hardyng understood at the Stepstones."</p>
<p>"You knew my father?" the Winged Knight raised an eyebrow in surprise.</p>
<p>"Aye. Served under my command with distinction," Samson nodded. "One of the finest, honorable young men I ever met. A lot of lives depended on us reaching Bloodstone and Grey Gallows that day. But to do so, one of us had to stay behind to hold off the pirate kings. It was a tough call I had to make, and it wasn't done casually. Your father gave his life so that others might live. Without him, we never would have been able to stop Malaqual Zha. Lieutenant Reynold died a hero. You should be proud of him."</p>
<p>Petyr appeared despondent, but overall pleased with getting the full story. He never got the chance to meet his father as he died long before he was born. As the group was escorted from the monorail car and passed by several passengers/refugees, they were soon met by a bald, massive, barrel-chested man wearing a greying beard.</p>
<p>"Who would pass the Bloody Gate?" he inquired.</p>
<p>"Major Petyr Hardyng of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights," the Young Falcon responded. "And accompanying me are Ser Jacaerys Velaryon the Master of Ships, Lord Jaqoros Hestohr the Master of Whisperers, General Samson the Master of War, and… Prince Daemon Baratheon. My lady cousin Sharra Arryn has requested them personally by name."</p>
<p>Daemon looked at the large, intimidating man. He gruffly examined them all as numerous Vale archers perched high atop the mountain ridges aimed rifles and crossbows at them – waiting for the order to strike.</p>
<p>"Stand to," the knight ordered.</p>
<p>"Stand to!" echoed an archer.</p>
<p>"Stand to!" chimed a sharpshooter.</p>
<p>"Welcome back, major."</p>
<p>Petyr nodded as the Bloody Gate slowly began to open rather noisily. As the Winged Knight was the first to press forward, Daemon, Samson, Jacaerys, and Jaqoros followed close behind. Once they ascended the goat trail and entered the Eyrie, they noticed a rather large assembly in the Crescent Chamber, the castle's reception hall before arriving at the High Hall. The main chamber was a long and austere hall with walls made of blue-veined white marble. Daemon noticed several Vale nobles staring at him, making him feel relatively uneasy.</p>
<p><em>They don't like me</em>, the Prince noticed. <em>I don't understand. What did I do to them? I'm nothing like my brother. I'm not Argilac.</em></p>
<p>But what eventually caught Daemon's attention was the sight of Sharra Arryn sitting on the throne of the Arryns carved from weirwood. By the Gods, she looked beautiful than the last time he saw her. Sharra wore a white silk dress trimmed with fox fur befitting a highborn lady of her status, with long open wing-like blue sleeves hanging down below the arms that loop around back up to attach to the brooch in the middle of her chest, the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn pendant around her neck, ringlets on her fingers and the Falcon Crown of Mountain and Vale on her head.</p>
<p>But… Sharra looked so worn out. Exhausted, stressed. Standing by her side were her chief primary advisors Ser Rupert Royce, Lady Anya Waynwood, and Lord Tavion Corbray.</p>
<p>"My lords and ladies," Petyr cleared his throat. "I hereby present to you my dearest cousin, Lady Sharra of House Arryn, Defender of the Vale and Wardeness of the East."</p>
<p>Daemon blinked. <em>Wait, what? Sharra? You are ruling the Vale?</em> "Sharra," he spoke silently.</p>
<p>"My honored guests. Welcome to my humble home," Sharra greeted them. "May we offer you some wine or food? You must be weary after such a long journey."</p>
<p>"You're very kind to offer, my lady, but no thank you," Jaqoros declined.</p>
<p>"State your purpose," Rupert demanded.</p>
<p>"Manners, ser," Sharra hushed.</p>
<p>Daemon stepped forward, giving a polite courtesy and cleared his throat. "Yes, well… I'm sure you're already aware of this. My brother's gone too far this time. But now that we're at war, I was hoping we could join forces to remove Argilac from the Andalosinian Throne."</p>
<p>"And how would we believe that what you say is actually sincere?" Anya suspected. "You are of the King's blood, that is beyond dispute. But your brother has made numerous attempts to invade our lands by force. We've been fighting him off since."</p>
<p>"I… wasn't aware of that, my lady."</p>
<p>"Two of your companions here have been licking Argilac's boots these past four years and now decide to change allegiances when it suits them," Tavion said, referring to Jaqoros and Jacaerys. "Had we been informed of their intentions to defect beforehand, had the Braavosi foreigner Jaqoros and Ser Jacaerys done the right thing earlier and not later, no one would have cared. But only after Queen Shiera died, after we learned of your brother brutally disbanding parliament and having several delegates put to death for doing their solemn duty, did our confidence in House Baratheon fade."</p>
<p>"I'm not my brother, Lord Corbray."</p>
<p>"Argilac's recently been making a play to seize the Riverlands and deprive your troops of crops, hence the overall frustration, no?" Jaqoros mentioned. Before any could speak, he cut them off. "My little birds are everywhere, from as far east as the Free Cities to nearly every corner of Westeros. I have to know things, otherwise, I'd be a rather poor Master of Whisperers."</p>
<p>"You need crops, I have a navy of my own," Daemon pressed. "We can engage in philosophical debate 'til the end of time, my lords and ladies, but the more we bicker amongst ourselves, the more damage Argilac inflicts than he already has." He glanced back at his advisors before returning his gaze towards Sharra. "What happened at King's Landing was only just the beginning. We need your help. We need the Vale's support. Anything you can spare."</p>
<p>Sharra observed her childhood friend closely. As much as she wanted to help without hesitation, the Flower of the Vale knew some of her vassals were rather reserved; stubborn and would not give their aid willingly as she would. "I'm afraid each of us faces a similar situation, Prince Daemon. Even as we speak, our scouts report that Argilac plans on making another push on our borders," she said. "If we rush to lend you our armies blindly, our defenses at home will be left vulnerable."</p>
<p>"But Sharra—"</p>
<p>"You will address her as 'Lady Arryn'," Anya scolded.</p>
<p>"I apologize, my lady. Shar… ahem, I mean, Lady Arryn and I have been close since childhood."</p>
<p>"Yes, we all know how close you two are, how fondly she speaks of you. Lady Arryn's personal affairs is her own business. But her asking for our help <em>is our</em> affair."</p>
<p>Sharra didn't like how viciously her advisors were grilling Daemon. She wanted to rebuke them, but she needs their experience and counsel.</p>
<p>"Even if we were to unite our forces, do you believe we stand a chance? As it stands, King Argilac outnumbers our troops and militiamen on the frontlines 3-to-1, he has the backing of the Reach – the most fertile region in Westeros, and General Gerion Lannister leading his armies," Rupert raised the question.</p>
<p>"I don't expect you to follow blindly without a plan," Daemon said. "General Samson?"</p>
<p>Samson nodded. "As Prince Daemon has said, whereas Argilac wields the advantage on land, we hold the advantage by sea. We start small and build upon that bit-by-bit. So far, as Master of War, everything I've been doing with our troops and recruits is merely delaying Argilac's men until the opportune moment presents itself. His men will most likely target the major strongholds in the Riverlands, which should give our smaller forces some room to maneuver."</p>
<p>"And then what?" Tavion pressed.</p>
<p>"Our ships should be able to prevent Argilac's fleet from harassing our troops on the mainland. Keeping them distracted until we cut them off from their provisions, which won't be easy," Jacaerys explained. "More recently, we've got more than 1/3rd of the Royal Army defecting from the King's cause. The senior officers could provide useful intel on General Gerion's next move."</p>
<p>"The man is ruthless as he is dangerous," Rupert stated. "The scale to pull off a feat against one of the nation's brilliant military generals would be quite an undertaking."</p>
<p>"Not quite. Everyone has a weakness," Samson refuted. "And if there's even a chink in Gerion's armor, then we can exploit it. <em>If</em> we work together."</p>
<p>"The reports are dire enough as it is. If we throw everything we have and lose… what then? It's a fool's errand. Your proposals are flawed."</p>
<p>Daemon felt himself growing increasingly irritated. "Do you have a better one? If so, then let's hear it," he challenged, stunning the senior Vale nobility. Silence. <em>No? That's what I thought. You old fossils haven't been down on the ground to see the overall carnage long enough. </em>Picking up on it, the Prince pressed further. "I've seen the terror Argilac is capable of firsthand my whole life. I know what my brother is capable of better than any of you combined. If he doesn't get what he wants, if he can't control something, if he can't break someone to bend to his will, he'll destroy them root and stem. And he won't stop with you or the revolutionist movement. If we're to ever make it through this civil war, then we need to stand together as our forefathers have done before. Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, Robert Baratheon… they rebelled against an evil tyrant 800 years ago and persevered to restore peace. It's because of them that any of us are still around to talk about it even some of us had forgotten. If we work together, we can do it again. Here. With us. With <em>this </em>generation."</p>
<p>Sharra nodded in agreement. She curled her fingers beneath her chin as Daemon's open beratement and subsequent plea for unity caused much of the Vale's assembled nobles to stir and gossip amongst themselves once more. As the sun began to set behind the mountains, they were presented with a choice: band together as one against a common enemy… or risk total annihilation. The Lady of the Eyrie then noticed Rupert, Anya, and Tavion whispering to each other before Anya gave her opinion silently. Sharra simply sat on her throne and listened. After much discussion, she sighed and shook her head in disbelief.</p>
<p>"As compelling as your arguments have been, Prince Daemon," Anya stated, "the cruel and unfortunate truth is that we simply cannot give support your cause at this time. Our borders must come first."</p>
<p>"What?" Samson reacted with disappointment.</p>
<p><em>Are you fucking shitting me right now?!</em> Daemon thought bitterly.</p>
<p>"If we can be guaranteed that another incursion will not occur once more, we may consider aiding you," Rupert suggested.</p>
<p>Tavion nodded. "We apologize if this was something you did not wish to hear, but this is the hard truth. Honesty is all we can offer. The Vale cannot make a promise of military aid that we simply cannot keep."</p>
<p><em>Such a sad day when our supposed allies turn their backs on us,</em> Jaqoros lamented. If the revolutionists could not acquire the backing they need, then the rebellion is doomed to fail before it gets a chance to begin.</p>
<p>"Laina," Sharra called out to one of her handmaidens, "see to it that our guests have a place to sleep tonight."</p>
<p>"At once, my lady," she curtsied.</p>
<p>The Vale noble ladies obeyed their lady's request and ushered Jacaerys, Jaqoros, and Samson to their assigned quarters. Petyr remained behind along with the rest of his Winged Knight brethren to maintain the necessary security and go over strategy once more. The other nobles quietly left until the high hall was empty. Daemon, however, shook his head and threw his hands up in disbelief. But before he could leave… he heard Sharra call out to him.</p>
<p>"Daemon, meet me in my chambers when you can tonight," she said before leaving.</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Nightfall…</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>By the time it was night, most occupants were asleep… save for one.</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …You must keep moving… »</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon carried a lit candle through the halls of the Eyrie. He never slept a wink, aside from another bout of his strange dreams of a raven with three eyes again, but also from having to be dealt with a first blow when the Vale's leading nobles declined to help him against his brother's army. He grumbled slightly under his breath until he found the bedchamber of the Defender of the Eyrie. Daemon rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out before raising a hand against the wooden door.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KNOCK, KNOCK!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Enter," a feminine voice called out.</p>
<p>Gripping the door handle, Daemon turned and pushed the door open and closed behind him. When he turned to face her, Sharra was standing in front of a mirror brushing her hair. She wore a thin bedgown to cover herself before going to bed. If Daemon wasn't too bothered with recent events, he'd compliment her many times over until her face turned a beat shade of red. Now… not so much. Both have changed since the escape. One was tasked with leading a rebellion, the other bore the responsibility of ruling an entire region by themselves.</p>
<p>"So… Lady of the Eyrie, huh?" Daemon inquired.</p>
<p>Sharra turned to face her childhood friend. "It's… complicated," she set her brush down and stood up to gaze out the window. "But what about you? 'The King in the Narrow Sea'?"</p>
<p>"Ah, Seven hells, not you too…"</p>
<p>"Relax, Daemon. I didn't bring you here just to tease you." Sharra allowed herself a small smile – even if her thoughts were trouble. "Still… I am glad you're here."</p>
<p>"Really? It was hard to tell. Your 'advisors' really fucked me hard back there."</p>
<p>"Language."</p>
<p>"Sorry. Just been under a lot of stress lately."</p>
<p>"We all have."</p>
<p>"How could they be so blind? You'd think we'd all be on the same side."</p>
<p>"It's not that simple. My advisors meant well, but they have their way of showing it. I'm the Lady of the Eyrie now; people are looking to me for guidance. Their well-being is my utmost priority. Any minor disagreement based on principle could split the Vale in two," She turned to sit down on the bed. "I… simply cannot afford to be selfish right now. No matter how much I might want to…" Sharra lowered her face to avoid his gaze.</p>
<p>Daemon felt something was wrong and approached Sharra. Bending down on one knee, he gently cupped her chin to get her to face him at eye-level. Indeed, he could see something was bothering her. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asked concerned.</p>
<p>Sharra exhaled shakily. "No. No, I'm really not. My… my mother is dead, Daemon," she confessed. "She passed away a couple of days ago. Now four million lives rest on my shoulders."</p>
<p>Now he felt bad. <em>Ah, shit. </em>"I'm so sorry, Sharra. I didn't know. How did it happen?"</p>
<p>"Mother was ill for some time. She fought it for as long as she could, but…" Sharra shook her head. "To be honest, I've never felt so alone as I do now…"</p>
<p>Daemon pulled her in for a hug. For a moment, it felt as if the world's problems were briefly washed away. Sharra relaxed a bit and returned the hug, with Daemon massaging her back and whispering reassuring words.</p>
<p>"Thank you. I'll be alright. Really," she exhaled and pulled away. "But you have more pressing matters than listening to me complain." Sharra stood up. "I called you here because I have something important that might be of use to you."</p>
<p>"Really?" the Prince's curiosity was peaked.</p>
<p>"While my advisors were right about this morning, I can't give you what you need… BUT I <em>can</em> tell you <em>how</em> to get it."</p>
<p>"Go on. I'm listening. What do I have to do?"</p>
<p><em>Always so eager to dive headfirst into trouble, consequences be damned. That's just like you,</em> Sharra reflected. "Before my mother's passing, we've dispatched an envoy on a sensitive diplomatic mission to Riverrun. Ambassador Tycho. Trouble is, he hasn't reported back for quite some time. We don't even know if he's even alive. I try not to worry, but… I can't help but suspect the Lannisters were somehow involved when they invaded Maidenpool."</p>
<p>"What was this envoy of yours meant to do?" Daemon pressed.</p>
<p>"He was tasked with building an alliance between my house and Lord Edmyn Tully, Lady Myranda's brother. In exchange for providing food and a supply chain for our troops, the Riverlands would get the full military support of the Vale in addition to the North's. Ambassador Tycho is an essential diplomat. We can't proceed without him."</p>
<p>"Why not send in the—?"</p>
<p>Sharra cut him off. "Sending in the knights of the Vale would attract too much attention. A small strike team would be able to bypass the Lannister armies and sneak into the Riverlands almost undetected. But it is not just House Arryn or the Tullys. Each leader of the Great Houses will be the ones who decide our future. Our troops, where they fight, and with whom. From there, everything else falls into place."</p>
<p>"Nothing's ever simple, isn't it? Military or politics, huh?" Daemon raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>"No, Daemon, nothing ever is. But if it gets you what you need, does it matter?" she replied.</p>
<p>"Where was your ambassador last seen?"</p>
<p>"Our scouts report he was seen heading towards Harrenhal."</p>
<p>"I'll find him, Sharra. We'll go to the Riverlands first thing in the morning. I promise."</p>
<p>Sharra smiled. "Thank you, Daemon." She turned to stare out the window overlooking the Mountains of the Moon as the light of the full moon shined brightly. Daemon leans on the railing beside her; she is quick to become aware of his presence. "It is a beautiful sight, isn't it?" she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"The view's nice, just… not used to being so high in the air."</p>
<p>"You looked out of the monorail car window, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"…Yes… Turns out I'm afraid of heights," Daemon places a hand on hers. "But not here. With you, it's as if nothing could ever ruin this moment."</p>
<p>Sharra is receptive to the way he looks at her. "Alyssa's Tears is said to have one of the cleanest waters in the Vale. Crystal clear – good for a swim in the hottest summers. The way the waterfall churning them ripples and moves."</p>
<p>They look into each other's eyes. Daemon cups her chin.</p>
<p>"I used to think if you looked too deeply into the waterfall," she continued, "you would lose all sense of reality."</p>
<p>"Well, <em>I </em>think the stories don't do the Vale's marvelous beauties justice," Daemon replied.</p>
<p>Then, Daemon leans close and claims Sharra's lips in a tender kiss. Although surprised but somewhat expected it, she does not resist and kisses him back, interlocking her fingers with his. Her thoughts and concerns simply melt away; she felt as if butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. Both soon shifted as Daemon put his arms around Sharra's waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. A shallow hum escaped from within her in response to how Daemon was making her feel; Sharra's heart was beating faster and opening up to him. To the young couple, it's like a cool inhalation of oxygen to warm the soul – an aphrodisiac. Like nothing in the world exists but she and him.</p>
<p>For what felt like an eternity, Sharra suddenly felt her senses coming back and quickly pulled away. Flushed and embarrassed for one, yet confusion with the other. The Flower of the Vale panted as heat rushed to her cheeks.</p>
<p>"No… I-I shouldn't have done that…" Sharra stammered.</p>
<p>"But… I love you, Sharra. Don't you feel the same for me?" Daemon asked, somewhat hurt.</p>
<p>"But I don't… I mean… The stress of it all, it-it… You-you mean it, don't you? But how can I be sure you aren't making a mistake? When you kissed me…. I-I… no. I'm so sorry."</p>
<p>"Sharra…"</p>
<p>Now it was her turn to feel bad. "Please, Daemon, I know we both wanted it – but… I'm sorry. I don't blame you… I-I have to go before somebody sees us," Sharra quickly ran past Daemon and out of her room, leaving him alone to stew in his thoughts.</p>
<p><em>Don't go. Please… come back. </em>"I'm sorry…" Daemon choked.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Confrontation at Gulltown, confrontation at the Eyrie… Prince Daemon and his companions simply can't get a break. And with the first mission about to go underway, we're expecting some battles taking place in the Riverlands as the crew set off to locate and retrieve the Vale's missing ambassador. Will they be able to find Tycho in time or is it far too late? If it comes down to the worst case scenario, what will be Daemon's Plan B? Find out next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lion of Lannister</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prince Daemon sets off to find the missing Vale ambassador; but House Lannister is set to sharpen their claws.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, I am sorry I have not been more active in these past few months; a lot has happened in 2020 leading into the new year of 2021, including personal issues, but recently I just bought my own house which included a lot of legal mumbo jumbo and finalization, plus my own place didn't have any WiFi so I had literally no access to the internet before getting Xfinity Comcast Cable + Internet installed (02/14/2021). Hopefully, this means no more hinderances for at least a while.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—Near the Riverlands—</strong>
</p><p>Riding down the high road along the Mountains of the Moon, Daemon and Samson were accompanied by Ser Petyr to officially begin their first task of uniting Westeros. The young Prince's uncle and Master of Ships, Jacaerys, had already ventured to Gulltown by himself to rally his armada against his tyrannical elder nephew's fleet. Jaqoros remained in the Vale to oversee the rebel spy network. As for Petyr, he received two vital tasks from Sharra and the other high lords of the Vale: evaluate the sincerity of Prince Daemon's intentions, and partly to ensure neither Daemon nor Samson tried anything stupid.</p><p>Admittedly, the travel itself was as dangerous as the task itself: shadowcats and Vale hill mountain clans, the trio had their armaments ready. Swords, lance, musket rifles, and pistols… Ser Petyr's knowledge of the high road proved useful not only for traveling safely but to effectively bypass General Gerion Lannister's massive armies.</p><p>"It won't be long until we reach the Riverlands now," Petyr mentioned.</p><p>"Any signs of the Lannisters?" Samson inquired.</p><p>"No. Not yet, General. Still… I recommend exercising extreme caution. King Argilac has placed quite a hefty bounty on all our heads, yours included."</p><p>"Let my brother try," Daemon replied rather curtly. "The more he tightens his grip, the more support he will lose. It's only a matter of time before his efforts implode."</p><p>Now normally Samson would ignore such a comment, but the way Daemon responded was unnerving. He had heard rumors surrounding his protégé and royal he had declared allegiance to and the new Lady of the Eyrie Sharra Arryn; but they were just that: rumors. Whether they had merit, Samson guessed that Daemon's thoughts would hinder his overall growth. And that was something this revolution could not afford right now—not with the civil war going on all around them. For this revolution to succeed, Daemon needed a clear judgment and to think rationally. He was still young, Samson knew that, but he had yet to test himself in the actual field of battle. By the time the trio appeared from the High Road entrance, they heard the distinctive sound of a fast-flowing stream of water.</p><p>"Is this…?" Daemon inquired.</p><p>"Yes, lad. We're no longer in the Vale," Samson confirmed. "We're on the eastern skirts of the Riverlands. I'd said we're nearing the Trident river."</p><p>Petyr nodded. "You hear the stories about the Trident, even as far as the Fingers. Around 842 years ago, it was said that the fate of all Westeros would be decided here at this very place. The Battle of the Trident. Our forefathers back then consisted predominantly of soldiers of the North, Vale, Stormlands and the Riverlands as the Reach and Dorne still supported King Aerys II the Mad of House Targaryen."</p><p>"I remember reading about it at the university libraries. And the lectures from Grand Maester Asten."</p><p>"Correct. Your ancestor Robert Baratheon led an army comprising around 35,000 men in total—compared to the Mad King's 40,000. But what Robert's forces lacked in numbers, they made up for in battlefield experience. As the battle progressed with both sides showing no signs of gaining any ground, your ancestor fought Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen in single combat. Although Rhaegar wounded Robert, the Baratheon warlord proved too much and delivered the killing blow with his monstrous warhammer—caving in Rhaegar's breastplate so hard it shattered his rubies all around."</p><p>Daemon hummed. "And thus, sealed the fate of House Targaryen and the ascension of my house to the throne. Of course, if my ancestor had not won that day, House Baratheon would not be where it stands today. Or all of us. Our houses since that day had been intertwined."</p><p>"Just as we are now," Petyr noted. "But it's the Baratheons fighting each other this time."</p><p>"It's been long overdue. I should have done something about my brother a long time ago than just sit back in fear and do nothing like a small, helpless child." <em>Not just for what he did to me, but to the people of the realm… and to Sharra.</em></p><p>"You're doing so now," Samson reassured him. "Try not to be too hard on—"</p><p>"Wait! Look over there! Smoke!" Petyr exclaimed with an alarm.</p><p>Samson and Daemon immediately turned in the direction Petyr was pointing at and both expressed surprise to see an enormous cloud of smoke emanating from several yards away, showing trouble was nearby. Clicking their tongues, all three motioned for their horses to speed up along the kingsroad down the Ruby Ford of the Trident. It was a long ride, but something would forever sear the scene that greeted them into their brains for a long time.</p><p>Upon arriving, it was a scene of total carnage. What was once the historical tourist attraction, the Inn at the Crossroads was reduced to a smoldering husk with burning embers still present; bodies of civilians—men, women, and children—laid about in a mass pileup near mass graves. It wasn't just murder; it was an outright slaughter.</p><p>"Oh my Gods…" Daemon gasped. He felt a tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>"Not even the children were spared. What level of atrocity," Samson examined the slaughter.</p><p>"Professor, is there… is there a chance someone—<em>anyone</em>—could still be alive?"</p><p>"I don't think so, lad. Whoever did this must have made sure there was little to no room left for doubt."</p><p>"But who? Who could have done this?"</p><p><em>You'll only need one guess</em>, Samson thought. His gut instinct suspected it was the Lannisters, but no banners were flying, no soldiers anywhere… Whatever came through here, they just missed it. But Samson found footprints trekking through the mud nearby; they aligned in near-perfect unison, side-by-side in marching formation as he examined the corpses. "Some stabs, puncture wounds… Likely caused by swords or lance. I see some gashes on the hands as well… one of the sorry bastards tried to fight back. Had no chance."</p><p>"Why would…?"</p><p>Petyr was the furthest off, lowering his head in silent prayer. He wasn't religious, but the Brotherhood of Winged Knight soldier felt it courteous to the fallen. A lot of these bodies would need a proper burial, their next of kin notified… if they had any at all. But as he rose, he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his left eye.</p><p>"H-help… m-me…" the man gasped. He was bloodied; badly wounded and his uniform torn.</p><p>Petyr rushed over the examined the silent cry for help. As he raised the man's head, his eyes widened with disbelief. His uniform—although torn—matched the sigil of House Arryn; light-blue coloring with feathers donned upon his sleeve. It was him! This is the man they've been looking for.</p><p>"HEY! We got a live one!" he shouted.</p><p>Daemon and Samson immediately snapped their heads towards Petyr and rushed over as fast as they could. Both men knelt beside the dying man as he gargled and gasped for air.</p><p>"It's him! It's Ambassador Tycho." Petyr returned his attention to him.</p><p>"S… Ser P-Petyr…?" Tycho gasped.</p><p>"Yes, friend. It's me. Don't worry. We've got some bandages in our pack. We'll get you patched up and—"</p><p>Samson examined him closely. "Multiple stab wounds caused by repeated knife strikes. Chest, stomach, intestines… even some lacerations near the femoral artery. I'm sorry, Petyr, but your ambassador doesn't have much time left."</p><p>"But—!"</p><p>"N-no… He-he's right. I… I've lost too much blood… Th-there were so many…"</p><p>"I'm sorry we couldn't get here fast enough," Daemon pressed his hands on the open wounds. "Please, tell us what you know…. If you can."</p><p>Tycho felt disoriented; if these were going to be his last words, then he'd put them to use and pass on his knowledge—even if the information he possessed could be one day vital. "L… Lady Arryn sent me to… to negotiate an alliance… with-with Edmyn Tully… th-the Lord of Riverrun and…. L-Lord Paramount of the Trident."</p><p>"Lady Myranda was his sister and heir and Riverrun's representative at parliament."</p><p>"Y-yes… Wh-when we heard of… of her execution, Lady Arryn suspected… the Vale would be targeted next. So she… she tasked me with th-this mission. Without the Riverlands' fertile farmlands… our people will starve."</p><p>"And Argilac and Gerion's troops will continue to march unopposed until all who stand against them are laid to waste," Petyr suspected.</p><p>"Y-yes…"</p><p><em>Damn you, brother. Damn you to the deepest corner of the Seventh Hell!</em> Daemon felt himself growing increasingly more disgusted the more he hears it. "But… what happened here?"</p><p>Tycho turned to the Prince. "I… stopped only for a day's rest… But then I heard screaming…!"</p><p>"Easy, easy," Samson hushed. "Don't force yourself too much. Now, calmly explain to us what you just saw."</p><p>"Ser Loreon Lannister and h-his men ambushed us… Th-they lined us all up… demanded answers when we had none… then they started…. killing everyone! Burned the whole inn to the ground! The inn owner's lad tried to stop them, but… Ser Loreon cut him down like he w-was nothing. He wasn't even armed…"</p><p>Daemon turned to Samson. "Who is this Ser Loreon?" he asked.</p><p>"General Gerion Lannister's son and a major in the Royal Army," he answered. "Pompous and arrogant, he is the heir to his father's lands and titles. But don't be fooled: Loreon is an experienced battle commander, and his skill with a blade is not to be trifled with as he's easily worth the strength of 20 men. The man is a dangerous warrior—which is why none are to face him in one-on-one combat."</p><p>"P-Please…" Tycho pleaded; his energy was quickly fading. "…without an alliance, I… I fear what will happen to… to my countrymen. I… I failed Lady Arryn…"</p><p>"No, you didn't fail <em>anyone</em>," the Prince interjected. "We're not done yet. We'll finish your mission for you. What's the quickest route to Riverrun from here?"</p><p>"And we need to do so without running into the bulk of the Lannister army," Samson agreed.</p><p>The dying ambassador slowly raised a hand. "T-that way," he directed, pointing his finger west. "F-follow the Red Fork… and y-you can approach R-Riverrun… from behind," he choked before handing the group a scrolled-up parchment sealed with wax. "Take this… Deliver it to… to Lord Edmyn."</p><p>Daemon nodded. "We'll deliver the message to Lord Tully… or die trying. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New, my lord ambassador. We'll get you and the Vale into this alliance."</p><p>"T-Thank you. And… tell… tell Lady Arryn… I-I'm sorry…" he gasped before finally slumping over; his body was completely lifeless. It was a miracle he even lasted this long, despite his wounds.</p><p>Petyr stood. He gripped his double-edged longsword tightly; the falcon-head pommel barely tapping the side of his silvered plate armor. "You will be avenged, wise sage. May the Father judge you justly, Lord Ambassador Tycho of House Corbray," he stood. "King Argilac will pay for this outrage!"</p><p><em>'Av… enge… us' </em>were the words of the late Lord Grandison echoing through his head as a reminder of hs elder brother's atrocities. Daemon stood. "Yeah, well, get in line," he huffed. "My hatred for my brother runs far deeper than yours."</p><p>"ENOUGH!" Samson stood to his feet. "There will be no quarreling between you two. You heard what the late ambassador said. There's another route to Riverrun from here that'll get us there without us ever acccidently running into the Lannsiter forces. Without an alliance, the Riverlands and Vale of Arryn have no chance. The realm will continue to suffer at Argilac's hands. Even our fleets cannot hold them off forever, and we need more men if we're to form a veritable army united behind one leader with a singular purpose. We can't do that if we're constantly at each other's throats! So, we're not. Fighting. Each other. Anymore! Do I make myself clear?"</p><p>Both Daemon and Petyr flinched at the professor's booming, commanding tone. "Yes, General," they said simultaneously.</p><p>Samson sighed. "Not much we can do for these people… and any burial will be too time consuming. If we hurry, we should reach Riverrun in less than a day and a half."</p><p>"If the horses last the long-forced march."</p><p>"It's risky, so let's make this count…."</p><p>
  <strong>—At Harrenhal—</strong>
</p><p>Within the ruins of Harrenhal, the largest castle in Westeros, the golden lions of House Lannister hung on the walls as soldiers loyal to King Argilac and General Gerion drank a toast in celebration of their triumph over the rebels. The Battle at Harrenhal ended with an overwhelming victory for the loyalists; almost the entire rebel forces were utterly wiped out, including some defectors and other high-ranking officers loyal to House Tully.</p><p>Every child of the Trident knew the tales told of Harrenhal, the vast fortress that King Harren the Black had raised beside the waters of Gods Eye nearly one thousand years ago, when the Kingdom of Westeros today had been seven individual realms, and the Riverlands were ruled by the ironborn from the Iron Islands. In his pride, Harren had desired the highest hall and tallest towers in all Westeros. 40 years it had taken, rising like a great shadow on the shore of the lake while Harren's armies plundered his neighbors for stone, lumber, gold, and workers. Thousands of captives died in his quarries, chained to his sled, or laboring on his five colossal towers. Men froze by winter and sweltered in summer. Weirwoods that had stood for almost 4,000 years were cut down for beams and rafters. Harren had beggared the Riverlands and the Iron Islands alike to ornament his dream. And when at last Harrenhal stood complete, on the very day King Harren took up residence, Aegon the Conqueror had come ashore at King's Landing. Harren and all his line had perished in the fires that engulfed his monstrous fortress, and every house that held Harrenhal since had come to misfortune. Strong it might be, but it was a dark place and cursed.</p><p>The way the Lannister soldiers sang was almost deafening.</p><p>
  <em>And who are you, the proud lord said,<br/>
</em>
  <em>that I must bow so low?<br/>
</em>
  <em>Only a cat of a different coat,<br/>
</em>
  <em>that's all the truth I know.</em>
</p><p>Seated at the main table with his legs crossed on top, Ser Loreon Lannister confidently sipped his wine as his troops celebrated. Artillery, cavalry, mortar fire… but Loreon's favorite remained to get in close with his longsword Lion's Roar to get the job done; in the battle, he must have felled over 50 men—either by the blade or firing his flintlock.</p><p>
  <em>In a coat of gold or a coat of red,<br/>
</em>
  <em>a lion still has claws,<br/>
</em>
  <em>And mine are long and sharp, my lord,<br/>
</em>
  <em>as long and sharp as yours.</em>
</p><p>"It is a great day, my lord. The rebels have been completely routed," said a Lannister captain, raising his voice enough for his commanding officer to hear him over the singing. "Harrenhal, the strongest castle in Westeros, belongs to us now."</p><p>
  <em>And so he spoke, and so he spoke,<br/>
</em>
  <em>that lord of Castamere,</em>
</p><p>"And the river lords are wide open to attack. Still… a tad bit disappointing, it was too easy. No challenge at all," Loreon replied, feeling bored. "What else do you have to report, captain?"</p><p>"We found Lord Edmyn Tully, my lord."</p><p>"Good. Bring him to me."</p><p>"I… he's dead, ser. Mortar fire while we laid siege," he replied. He had his men bring forth a stinky bundle, reeking of decomposition and ash. With a snap of his fingers, the bag unfolded—unveiling dismembered body parts. "This is what's left of him."</p><p>Loreon's face scrunched at the stench. "Mmm!" he then spotted Tully's signet ring on a dislocated finger. "Yes, that's him alright. The sorry old man never stood a chance against the realm's finest. Now the river lords are without their trout master, they'll be completely helpless against us lions. The Riverlands are now ripe for the taking."</p><p>"Yes, my lord—"</p><p>A messenger then ran into the room. "Pardon the interruption, sers!" he apologized.</p><p>"What is it now?" inquired Loreon.</p><p>"Our scouts have just reported back. Private Enslin informed us that the Northmen have crossed the Neck. They're on their way here."</p><p>"How many men?"</p><p>"About 40,000 troops, ser; including cannons and mortars. They are under the command of Ser Rodrick Stark and his brother Jonos Stark."</p><p><em>The wolf who ran away now returns with his pack. </em>"Ahh, the Winter Wolves – the fiercest, most ferocious fighting force in the North. The finest warriors House Stark has ever produced… and the traitors who fled King's Landing avoiding King Argilac's justice," Loreon smirked. "Which way are they heading?"</p><p>"To Riverrun, ser."</p><p>
  <em>But now the rains weep o'er his hall,<br/>
</em>
  <em>with no one there to hear.</em>
</p><p>Loreon initially made a blank expression before shifting into a serious one, full of confidence in his chances at acquiring yet another military victory and the opportunity to face-off against the heir to Winterfell, Ser Rodrick Stark. Stark is one of the North's strongest warriors who were once its prominent politicians at parliament before its dissolution but was luckily one of the very few to escape captivity and return home to muster a large army to march south. Named after the Northmen who supported the claim of Rhaenyra Targaryen centuries ago, the Winter Wolves were considered the North's elite military forces who led the vanguard of every major campaign; to put on the wolf pelt was considered a great honor.</p><p>
  <em>Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,<br/>
</em>
  <em>and not a soul to hear.</em>
</p><p>The Lannister knight rose from his seat abruptly, causing the singing to immediately stop. "The wolf rushes into the lion's jaws. So be it," he said. His confidence even suggested he was well and truly capable of defeating both the Tullys and Starks in one fell swoop. "Captain, command the drummers beat assembly. I want a full night's march before the rebels know we're on the move."</p><p>"Yes, my lord," the officer replied.</p><p>"And send word to the capital. Tell my father and His Grace that I'm moving against Rodrick Stark."</p><p>"At once, my lord."</p><p>Once the officer sprang out of the room, Loreon stared at his men. "Listen up!" he commanded, causing his troops to immediately fall into line. "We have those rebel scum on the run. Scattered, bloodied, broken… but the hunt is not over yet. Let no man forget how menacing we are! We are lions! The Lion's Pride!"</p><p>"Lion's Pride, a'ooo!" they rallied.</p><p>"You see that outside these walls?" he pointed his blade out the window beyond the horizon. "Glory! Immortality! Our victory will be carved in stone, forever recorded in the annals of history! Take it! It's yours!"</p><p>"A'ooo! A'ooo!"</p><p>"Now… the time has come to crush this uprising once and for all. All forces to Riverrun!"</p><p>"A'OOO! A'OOO!"</p>
<p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again, sorry I haven't been active lately but I've completed the next chapter where we are introduced to General Gerion Lannister's son, Ser Loreon. What is your interpretation of him – of his character? As for Prince Daemon… with the Vale's ambassador dead, he'll now have to make the travel to Riverrun himself as a favor to House Arryn to fully gain their support. We even learn that some who were apprehended when Argilac disbanded parliament escaped and came back to support the rebels. How will the expected battle of Riverrun play out? Let me know.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Battle of Riverrun (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daemon participates in his first battle; Sharra starts to face her inner demons.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—Near Riverrun—</strong>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>Two days later…</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p><p>It was barely nighttime deep within the heart of the Riverlands, but already the landscape had changed drastically with the barrage of musket shots and mortar fire; the sounds of explosions and shouts were deafening. The first wave of House Lannister's army had arrived earlier than expected and had camped themselves on the highest hill a few meters out, armed with infantry soldiers, artillery, cavalry, and heavy weapons, including cannons and mortars. Samson, Petyr, and Daemon were running as fast as their legs could carry them through the battlefield since their horses had been shot from underneath them. Tully militiamen and Royal Army defectors scrambled all over the place to avoid getting hit—though some were too late.</p><p>"Gods dammit! Where did they come from?!" Petyr hollered.</p><p>
  <strong>*WHOOSH!*</strong>
</p><p>Balls of lead whizzed past their heads so fast.</p><p>"How did the Lannisters get here so fast?!" Daemon shouted.</p><p>"Don't let up! Keep pushing ahead!" Samson replied. "Put your heads down! And watch that damn cover fire!"</p><p>Both Petyr and Daemon huffed and panted, trying to maintain their composure as they ran in the middle of the war zone. However, as this was Daemon's first time, his adrenaline levels shifted into overdrive. He had some initial training from the Red Keep's Master-at-Arms but had no combat experience under his belt as most of his family had. The young Prince was terrified.</p><p>"There it is! Off in the distance!" Petyr pointed.</p><p>What seemed like a couple of hundred yards away past the first checkpoint laid the castle of Riverrun, ancestral seat of House Tully and regional capital of the Riverlands sitting along the river road at the confluence of the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers. Even as an ancient fortress, Riverrun was a strong three-sided castle, even though it was nowhere near the size of the Red Keep. In times of danger, the sluice gates can be opened to fill a wide moat and leave the castle surrounded on all three sides by water, turning Riverrun into an island and leaving it practically unassailable and commands a view of many leagues—meaning getting to it will be difficult and many stationed atop the battlements would see them coming from miles away on all sides.</p><p>Before the trio could progress any further, armed Tully guards pointing their muskets at them stopped them in their tracks.</p><p>"Stop right there!" shouted one of them.</p><p>"Identify yourself!" exclaimed another.</p><p>"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Daemon tried to defuse the situation. "It's okay. We're friendly. We mean you no harm."</p><p>"They're not wearing the standard Lannister uniforms—"</p><p>"We've had <em>six</em> Lannister spies already try to infiltrate Riverrun and assassinate the Colonel! I know little about you," the agitated guard pointed his weapon at the Prince's face, "but there's no way in Seven Hells I'm taking a gods damned chance!"</p><p>"Damn it, lad! Put the gun <em>down</em>!" exclaimed Petyr.</p><p>"YOU WANT SOME TOO?! YOU WANT SOME TOO?!"</p><p>Samson intervened. "ENOUGH!" his voice echoed a loud, commanding boom. All guards flinched. "I'm General Samson, commander of the rebel army and Master of War to Prince Daemon Baratheon. Now put. Your guns. <em>Down</em>."</p><p>The Tully guards were clearly intimidated, unsure what to believe until a Royal Army defector approached.</p><p>"G-General Samson? <em>The</em> General Samson the Tenacious?" he asked.</p><p>"Yes, you dolt." Samson turned to the two youths. "This is Ser Petyr Harding of the Vale, a major in the Brotherhood of Winged Knights. And this is Prince Daemon Baratheon. We're on a sensitive diplomatic mission to Riverrun. Which way is it to your commanding officer?"</p><p>The officer nodded. "Y-yes, of course. Chief Warrant Officer Bryant of the 29th Battalion, r-reporting for duty, ser. M-my apologies, General. We're all on edge here." He pointed at Riverrun. "The Colonel's on the castle walls, past the next four barricades."</p><p>"Then we need to move fast before more Lannister soldiers arrive—"</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p><p>"NOW! We need to go!" hollered Petyr.</p><p>"Double time!"</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p><p>Once the group was off running towards the Tully stronghold again, it seemed the fighting between both the loyalists and rebels were intensifying. Gunfire, mortars, close-range combat… Samson, Petyr, and Daemon fought tooth and nail to make it to their destination. But after a long struggle, they arrived at the castle gates—which remained sealed off and left a wide moat preventing their crossing. Two more Tully guardsmen up top pointed their guns at them.</p><p>"Stop or we'll—!"</p><p>"Wait a minute! Hold your fire!" one squinted. "Is that… General Samson?"</p><p>"Yes, it's me! Open the bloody gates! We need to get inside now!"</p><p><em>Sheesh, these people practically worship the professor. They listen more to him than they do me,</em> Daemon thought.</p><p>"A-all right, you heard the man! Open the gate!"</p><p>The scouts above released a lever, causing the rusty gate hinges to let out a harsh, audible shrill grating groan before the gates themselves were lowered—allowing Daemon, Petyr, and Samson entry before the gates were closed back up behind them. Daemon surveyed his surroundings as he followed Petyr and Samson; this was his first time in Riverrun, though he had hoped it would have one day been under different circumstances. The castle had red sandstone walls sheering from the water with crenelated battlements and arrow loops with its towers on opposite shores. The intense fighting was still going on outside with multiple troops inside the castle garrison running past each other frantically getting to their stations or tending to the wounded/dying. Properly garrisoned, Riverrun can hold supplies for men and horses for as long as two years; a garrison of 200 men is larger than Riverrun requires in most circumstances.</p><p>But these were not most circumstances.</p><p>Despite their situation, all remaining forces converged on Riverrun, intent on heavily defending it. If Riverrun falls, then so too does the entire Riverlands. All other river lords north near the Neck would most likely surrender to the inevitable. Daemon could not allow that to happen. He would not! But where was the Lord of Riverrun?</p><p>"You there! Lass!" Samson called to a servant girl. "Which way to the senior officer of this place?"</p><p>She pointed left. "U-up the stairs th-that way around the corner!" she said.</p><p><em>These people are desperate</em>, Daemon saw the look in their eyes. <em>Madness. Just madness!</em></p><p>They soon traverse the main hallway before turning the corner and ascending the stairs leading to the battlements up top. Things looked grim upon their arrival; Tully sappers and Royal Army defectors were snipping Lannister infantry soldiers and took cover behind the walls to reload their muskets and rifles. Engineers nearby were cleaning the canons preparing for another blast but were downed by two shots as soon as more tried to take their place as best they can. Nearby was a small group of 12 healers and House Tully's maester, Lawsen, tending the wounded.</p><p>Daemon noticed a rather noticeable group of body bags before spotting a rather tall, middle-aged man donning blue breastplate armor with a rather noticeably high-ranking insignia on his right shoulder standing over a map of the surrounding area with two attendants at his side. He had to be the Colonel, otherwise, why would he have a commanding aura about him?</p><p>"Lieutenant Kiyana," he barked with a thick Volantene accent, "get your men on the southwest battlement!"</p><p>"Yes, ser!" she saluted before running off.</p><p>"Sergeant Aren, find a way to get that damned supply line open!"</p><p>"Ser!" he saluted before running off.</p><p>Samson furrowed his brow. He recognized that voice. "Colonel Vargo Maegyr," he mentioned.</p><p>"WHO IN THE HELL LET IN MORE DAMNED REFU—?!" Vargo turned before being stunned into silence. "Samson? General, is that you?" he asked surprised.</p><p>"At ease, soldier."</p><p>"Ser," Petyr turned to Samson. "You know him?"</p><p>"I know him well, lad. He was my second-in-command during the War against the Band of Twelve thirty-four years ago," he nodded. "Came over to this country from Volantis with almost nothing, so I took Vargo on as my apprentice until he was able to look after himself. King Ormund III rewarded him for his service by granting him Westerosi citizenship and a place within the Royal Army. He rose through the ranks rather quickly after that. We became friends ever since. Despite being a foreigner, Vargo is a fine officer with an impressive record. Tough, but fair. He was commissioned for a promotion when I retired eight years ago, but that process stalled when Queen Shiera III died."</p><p>"Well, as touching as this reunion is, I'm in the middle of fending off a Lannister invasion," Vargo returned to the map.</p><p>"We've noticed." Samson glanced at Daemon. "Vargo, this is—"</p><p>"I know <em>who he is</em>," he interrupted with a frown. "Prince Daemon of House Baratheon, second son of Queen Shiera the Pure and Jaerys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark and Master of the Tides… <em>and</em> let us not forget the <em>brother</em> of our oh so illustrious 'King' Argilac, the Fourth of His Name… Argilac…. the Malevolent. How is this… <em>child</em> any different?"</p><p>Daemon gulped. Has the prestige of his family name fallen so far that many had lost faith because of his brother's actions? He had not even met Colonel Vargo before until now, and already the sight of his presence offends him. But the sudden rudeness directed at him was quickly replaced by a sense of frustration. He was not going to allow anyone to judge him because of his brother again.</p><p>"Why did you bring him here?" he pressed.</p><p>Before Samson could say anything, Daemon pushed past him. "Colonel, we've come seeking an emergency audience with Lord Edmyn of House Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident. It is a delicate matter of utmost importance. Is he somewhere nearby?" he answered.</p><p>Vargo stopped before glancing up at the boy; the boy's got balls of steel if he were to approach him like that. If it had been one of his troops, that would have been marked as grounds for insubordination. He glanced at Samson, who nodded. However, Vargo shook his head.</p><p>"If you've come all this way… You're a tad bit late for that, boy."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Lord Edmyn Tully is dead," he announced. "He died at the Battle of Harrenhal, buying us time for the rest of us to escape. The Lannisters sent us bits and pieces of his corpse along with his dismembered head long before you three got here."</p><p>"Damn it!" Samson cursed.</p><p>"That's… going to be a problem," Petyr looked concerned. First Myranda at King's Landing, now her brother at Harrenhal.</p><p>"No shit, Major," Vargo spat.</p><p>"All right, so who's in charge now?"</p><p>Daemon turned to Samson. "Professor, if I may?" he got his attention. "Among the hundreds of noble houses in Westeros, each one maintains a clear line of succession dating as far back as 14,000 years—this includes the rights of inheritance as lands and titles. Many nobles who marry into other families also need charts to prove their blood ties to the other at all in the event of one house going extinct. Every castle library, even the Citadel, has such scrolls. If we research House Tully's lineage from past to present, we could find out who is next in line."</p><p>"He's right," Petyr chimed in; even the major was born into a noble house and understood how the line of succession works.</p><p>Vargo, however, did not look convinced. "Huh! Even if that is the case, it is practically impossible for us to find out who the next Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident is. We can't even make a move, nor can we afford to abandon such a strategically important defensive position," he scoffed.</p><p>Just then, another soldier rushed in a hurry.</p><p>"Ser!" she panted. "Our supply depot along the western perimeter is under attack! Lannister forces are approaching from the Golden Tooth! Wayfarer's Rest is requesting immediate reinforcements!"</p><p>"DAMN IT! We don't have enough troops to spare!" the Colonel cursed loudly. "If those damned lions seize that depot, they'll starve us out this castle! Why hasn't Sergeant Aren opened up that blasted line yet?!"</p><p>"Has word been sent to other houses?" Samson calmly inquired.</p><p>"All remaining troops in the Riverlands are assigned to defend Riverrun at all costs! The Northmen have crossed the Neck, but they're still a few miles away!"</p><p>Daemon's eyes shifted between the two back and forth. If Wayfarer's Rest surrenders, the Lannister army will be able to march on Riverrun from the west in addition to attacks from the south and east. The North had indeed opted to send troops to the Riverlands to break the siege, but the Lannister army was still well-provisioned, funded, and had elite artillery. Best they could do would be to bring the conflict to a stalemate; but even so, with the threat encroaching from the west, someone had to go slow them down long enough for the river lord's supply depot to be secured <em>and</em> hold off enemy troops long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Whoever volunteered for such a dangerous task would have to leave on the fastest horse available.</p><p>"I'll do it!" Daemon blurted out. "I'll go. Send me to Wayfarer's Rest. Let me prove myself to you that I can be trusted."</p><p>All looked either surprised or shocked by the Prince's bold (or suicidal) declaration.</p><p>"You? Impossible! You're not even a soldier!" Petyr shook his head. "If you go out there, then you will surely die. And then what happens? It'll be all for nothing!"</p><p>"But what other choice do we have? Sit here and do nothing? We just need to simply delay their advance, right? Slowing them down with—"</p><p>"Espionage," Samson finished. "We don't have enough to mount a counteroffensive, but…" he turned to both Daemon and Petyr. "A small strike team could sneak behind enemy lines undetected and cause a lot of chaos and confusion. Keep them away from the supply depot long enough, ensure morale doesn't deplete further until the Northmen arrive." He scratched his chin. "But have you used one of these before?" he pointed to a flintlock pistol.</p><p>"No," Daemon shook his head.</p><p>Samson then had to provide a quick tutorial. His former pupil was a good listener at the University of King's Landing, so he had to take some mental notes by now while giving him the necessary supplies. His index finger and thumb traced the four pieces of the flintlock. "Pull the safety back, half-cock the hammer, pour a measure of gunpowder down the barrel," he instructed. Daemon's eyes watched closely. "After that, you wrap a lead ball in a small piece of cloth, ram it down the barrel on top, place a small amount of gunpowder into the pan, snap the frizzen in place over the pan, fully cock the hammer, aim down your sights, and squeeze the trigger to shoot. When you reload, you simply repeat the steps I've shown you. Understand?"</p><p>The Prince nodded and nervously took the flintlock as well as some of Samson's supplies.</p><p>"I'll go with him," Petyr volunteered. "Not out of impulsiveness, but Sharra would never forgive me if something were to happen to the Prince. Besides, he'll need an <em>actual</em> soldier with real combat experience accompanying him."</p><p>Samson nodded. "Good," he said. "I'll stay here with Colonel Vargo and coordinate our efforts from here. In the meantime, the maester here," he referred to Lawsen, "will get the archives we need from the castle library to find out who we're going to be looking for next."</p><p>"M-ME?!" Lawsen exclaimed fearfully. "But these people are wounded! They need me here!"</p><p>"And we have many more who will temporarily take over until you get back."</p><p>Vargo sighed. "You're sure you trust him? This… boy?" he referred to the Prince.</p><p>"Prince Daemon may be young and inexperienced…. but he was one of my university students," Samson confirmed. "And as his Master of War, I'm to advise him on how to run a military campaign. Besides, my old friend, the boy is nothing like his brother. He has a good heart—like his mother did—and he wants to help your troops voluntarily."</p><p>The Colonel sighed again with exasperation. "Go do what you must then," he relented.</p><p>"Good luck out there, you two."</p><p>Daemon and Petyr nodded and turned to march downstairs to the rear entrance of Riverrun. The gates opened and lowered the drawbridge, allowing them to leave before it was raised and sealed off again. Donning a cloak over his head, Daemon made certain his flintlock was prepared… and Stormbringer was ready for close-quarters combat if it came to that. However, he was not sure if the ancient Valyrian steel sword of his legendary ancestor could hold up against an opposing blade as it had not seen any combat in centuries. Daemon was scared and nervous as hell but was forced to steel himself as from here on out it was just him and Petyr.</p><p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p><p>Taking what might be one last look at Riverrun, the Rebel Prince and Young Falcon began the forced run to their destination.</p><p>
  <strong>—At the Eyrie—</strong>
</p><p>Lady Sharra Arryn was reviewing important documents in her chambers, examining each word carefully before taking her stamp and pressing the blue wax down to mark her approval before moving on to the next. Such documents included daily reports from her frontline military officers, petitions from Gulltown's merchants on how to address the civil war's economic impact on the Vale, old letters from old acquaintances, even love letters from potential suitors… which crept her out. Each day was proving more stressful than the last.</p><p>Such as it was in her duties as Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Wardeness of the East. Daemon's dog rested its head on her lap, begging for attention. The canine missed its master terribly. Sharra gently stroked the dog's ear.</p><p>"*Whine!*"</p><p>"Well, at least I have you, boy," she smiled warmly.</p><p>"*Whine!*"</p><p>
  <strong>*KNOCK! KNOCK!*</strong>
</p><p>"Enter."</p><p>The door opened, revealing Jarger holding a tray of tea, cups of cream, and sugar cubes. It had a fascinating aroma, one which filled the head of House Arryn pleasantly as the tray was set down next to Sharra on her desk.</p><p>"Would you like a cup of tea, my lady?" he offered.</p><p>"Yes, please. Thank you, Jarger."</p><p>Sharra cradled the tea in her hands and blew on it to cool it. Jarger and some of House Arryn's handmaidens were tending to her well-being after Alayne passed away. Even the senior officers from houses Royce, Waynwood, Corbray, and Hardying declared Sharra's safety to be of utmost importance as she was the last of her proud prestigious bloodline. Jarger bowed his head courteously and left the room, closing the door behind him. Silence filled her bedroom once more when Sharra began sipping small sips of her hot tea… eliciting a small hum.</p><p>"Mmm. Good tea," she sighed. Sharra placed the cup down and stood from her seat. Hard to imagine that this was once her parents' room, and now it was hers. Large, yet eloquent in its design. The mountains of the Vale would get cold in the winter, but she was used to it. Her eyes examined the small painting showing a much younger Sharra Arryn with an equally younger Daemon Baratheon.</p><p>They were both children then, childhood sweethearts. And yet here they were now. Eighteen years old and in a bloody civil war against a brutal tyrant who happens to be his brother. But that is not what is bothering Sharra lately. She knew armed conflict was inevitable. But it was the last time she saw Daemon in the Eyrie before his departure. Her mind recaptured the magical scenery of their kiss by the window. And somehow it made her sad.</p><p><em>"</em> <em>No… I-I shouldn't have done that…"</em></p><p>
  <em>"But… I love you, Sharra. Don't you feel the same for me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"But I don't… I mean… The stress of it all, it-it… You-you mean it, don't you? But how can I be sure you aren't making a mistake? When you kissed me…. I-I… no. I'm so sorry."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Sharra…"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Please, Daemon, I know we both wanted it – but… I'm sorry. I don't blame you… I-I have to go before somebody sees us."</em>
</p><p>"Daemon…" <em>I didn't mean to hurt you</em>, she reflected. Her mind was plagued with guilt and remorse for how she handled herself that night.<em>I never meant to push you away, but please don't blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.</em> Sharra placed a hand onto one of the stone pillars on her balcony overseeing the valley below. <em>Just… stay alive out there, Daemon. For my sake.</em></p><p>
  <strong>*KNOCK! KNOCK!*</strong>
</p><p>Sharra snapped out of it and turned again to the door. "Oh! Uh, who is it?" she called out.</p><p>"It's Laina, my lady," a feminine voice called out from behind the door. "Your bath is ready."</p><p>"All right. I'll be right there."</p><p>Once the footsteps faded away, Sharra prepared herself to leave her quarters and went to her private personal bathhouse. The Eyrie's bathhouse was made of stone and marble, built over a natural hot spring with rose petals scatted across the steaming surface. Closing the door behind her, Sharra slowly began to disrobe. Accessories to clean herself with including a sponge, fragrant oils, and some towels were laid out for her. Sharra undid the final lace to her dress and pulled it over her head, revealing her naked form. She possessed an attractive curvaceous figure, large D-cup-sized breasts, and her hips were full; she embarrassingly covered her chest with her arms while she approached the tub. As she slowly placed her toes into the hot and steaming water, she began her slow descent. Her reflection was almost clear as if the water had been filtered up here from Alyssa's Tears itself.</p><p>Sharra groaned as she felt the heat. It made her feel relaxed, clean. She grabbed the sponge to scrub her arms, stomach, legs, and feet—although she always had a hard time trying to scrub her back. Her shoulders ached so she laid her head back against the edge.</p><p>"Always had to come to help your mother and grandmother bathe you when you were just a wee babe," an elderly woman called out. "Now look at you: all grown up. A lovely young woman in your own right."</p><p>Sharra nearly jumped and turned her head whilst covering herself. "AH! T-Teressa! By the Gods, please don't scare me like that," she gasped.</p><p>Teressa, an old woman 76 years old, was a longtime servant of House Arryn—having served three generations of Arryns in total. As intelligent as a maester and a stern mistress, yet warm and grandmotherly to little Sharra. To her, Teressa was more a friend, confidant, and parental figure she could turn to whenever she feels upset.</p><p>"I do hope our visitors haven't been bothering you," Teressa knelt beside the bath's edge to scrub Sharra's long dark brown hair with essential oils, her frail fingers gently scrubbing her scalp and gently undoing the snags. The old woman even helped wash her back.</p><p>"Oh no, no, Teressa. Jarger's been no trouble at all. As for Jaqoros and Jacaerys, well… I'm not too entirely sure. But they did help us escape from King's Landing."</p><p>"Yes, deary. What an awful thing to endure! We were worried dearly about you." She scooped up a pale of water and dumped it over Sharra's head to rinse. The Arryn lady shut her eyes tight to prevent any substance from stinging. "But when we heard about that brute Argilac…"</p><p>Sharra flinched as the painful memories of her torment flashed. She still remembered the public beatings, the humiliation, and the way Argilac's henchmen tried to strip her naked before Daemon intervened.</p><p>
  <em>"Daamn! Did you see that?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I sure did! Her tits are huge!"</em>
</p><p>She could still hear their laughs in her head. Her body began to tremble.</p><p><em>"I. Said. ENOOOUUUUUUGHHHH!" </em>[…] <em>"Argilac, you son of a bitch! Leave her alone!"</em></p><p>"Deary?"</p><p>"It's… it's nothin—OWW!" she flinched when she felt her hair being pulled.</p><p>"Don't tell me it's nothing to me, young lady," Teressa scolded before gently cleaning her. "Now… you'll never be able to move past the trauma unless you learn to open yourself up."</p><p>"I know. But… Teressa…"</p><p>"'But' what?"</p><p>"I still feel and hear what Argilac's men did to me in the throne room," Sharra choked. Damn it, not now. Not here. "They beat me, they humiliated me. They… they tried to…"</p><p>"I see."</p><p>"But… Prince Daemon saved me from them. He fought them off even if it meant being beaten bloody and bruised. All to protect me. Ever since parliament was disbanded and my colleagues were executed, I have been a hostage in King's Landing… until the riots. Aside from Daemon, Jarger, and Professor Samson, I had no friends left in the capital." Sharra fought to calm her emotions. "But before I sent Daemon to aid us, he kissed me."</p><p>Teressa raised a curious eyebrow. "Did he force himself on you?" she inquired.</p><p>"What? Oh no! Gods, no. No, he didn't. I mean, I kissed him too, but that—" she tried hiding a faint blush before her elder spotted it.</p><p>"Ah! You're in love."</p><p>"Teressa!"</p><p>"I hear it in your voice—even if you try to hide it. But yet you fear your commitment to your duties as Lady of the Vale and the yearning for what lies in your heart may one day lead to the unthinkable which could end in an everlasting heartache."</p><p>Sharra was nearly silent. "How did…?" she asked silently.</p><p>"Would it surprise you to know I was in the same situation you were when I was your age?" Teressa implied. "Yes. I was in love once. I remember how it feels."</p><p>"You never mentioned that to me before."</p><p>"Oh, it was a long time ago. I was once a young girl after my 16th nameday. But before that… I grew up with a simple stableboy who was fat, hair matted, and overall stank. We were both inseparable when we became friends. Over the years, he changed."</p><p>Now Sharra was curious. "How so?" she asked curiously.</p><p>"Ah-ha. He grew into a handsome young lad," Teressa reminisced. "Strapping, smart, clean. And all muscle, he was a maiden's fantasy. He asked my father for my hand in marriage."</p><p>"And did you accept?"</p><p>The old woman frowned with disappointment. "No. However… when I turned 18, a group of outlaws came into our village, set fire to every home they came across, caught me, and took turns raping me one at a time behind the stables. They violated me and laughed in my face. The pain was bad, but I still felt everything they did when they were done with me."</p><p>"Oh my Gods, I'm so sorry," Sharra gasped horrified.</p><p>"Don't be, my sweet child. It was all so very long ago. But my trauma left an ever-lasting effect on me. I ended up distancing myself from Harry instead of telling him… until it was too late. He seemed to lose hope and left in the middle of the night. I never saw him again after that." Teressa cupped Sharra's chin to make her look up at her. "Do you know why I'm telling you this?"</p><p>"Uh-uh," she shook her head.</p><p>"Not a day goes by when I could just simply tell Harry how I felt. Today's young love reminds me of what might have been if I had not simply been more honest about myself. Harry was to me as His Highness was to you based on how you described it. We could spend all night trading tales of lost love." She slowly stood up. "You have your duties to the Vale and all of its people, but do not close yourself off because of the trauma. Learn to know who you can trust to help ease your burden, and with those who care about you." She glanced out at the full moon. "Don't stay in there too long, young lady. It'll be past your bedtime soon."</p><p>Sharra nodded. "I understand. Goodnight, Teressa."</p><p>"Goodnight, my sweet child."</p><p>And with that, the door to the bathhouse gently closed shut. Sharra still sat in the tub thinking about Teressa's words carefully. But trying to confront the trauma was going to be an emotionally challenging one. She sighed and stood up, grabbing a nearby towel to dry herself. Sharra grabbed her nightgown placed on the counter by Teressa before her departure and returned to her quarters. As she lifted the sheets, Sharra crawled into bed with the dog jumping on top to join her.</p><p>"Daemon…" she yawned before finally falling asleep.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another chapter done, and Daemon is off to fight in his first major battle in the Riverlands. However, with the Lord of Riverrun confirmed as dead, who else might be around to assume the role as Lord Paramount of the Trident? Can the Rebel Prince and Young Falcon make a difference at Wayfarer's Rest or will it be too late? And how about Sharra Arryn learning how best to confront her inner demons? What influence might this old woman Teressa have over the young Lady of the Eyrie? Let me know and guess what you think might happen next.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Battle of Wayfarer's Rest (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Winter is coming south; Daemon fights his first battle.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—At a nearby encampment—</strong>
</p>
<p>"Our scouts report the Lannister armies are encroaching on two fronts: from the west past the Golden Tooth and from the east near Harrenhal," noted Ser Martyn Cassel, a Lieutenant in the Winter Wolves' 34th Cavalry Division. "The second host is said to be larger than the first. With the kingsroad cut off, confrontation is inevitable. I recommend that we get the second Lannister army on broken ground and put their troops at a disadvantage."</p>
<p>"Bah! Do that and you'll be wastin' a fine lot on a useless mission, Lieutenant," bellowed Lord Harmond Umber, ruler of the Last Hearth and Colonel in the Winter Wolves' 12th Marauder Battalion. A seasoned war veteran with roughly 40 years of combat experience under his belt, Harmond is a large heavily muscled man, standing nearly 7' 0" and is a formidable warrior with fists as large as hams. He is a direct descendant of Lord Greatjon Umber through his grandson Ned Umber.</p>
<p>Every high-ranking Northmen officer in the main command tent surrounded a map detailing the battlefield, with each piece spread across the table detailing the movement of the respective Lannister, Tully, and Stark armies.</p>
<p>"No, what we need to do is get <em>around</em> them and stop the lion host approaching from the Golden Tooth dead in its tracks near the Whispering Wood before reinforcing the Tullys at Riverrun. Do that, and both the river lords <em>and</em> army defectors will join us."</p>
<p>"But to do that we'll need to send a relief force here at Wayfarer's Rest. It's suggested to be one of the rebels' last remaining supply lines," noted Ser Brandon Stark, second-in-command of the Winter Wolves. Serving under his elder brother Rodrick's leadership, both young men claim descendant of Robb Stark the Young Wolf, who served as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North 800 years ago. Brandon had gaunt features, a long face, small grey eyes, and long brown hair. Whereas Roderick was born to lead, he was born to follow – the alpha and beta.</p>
<p>Standing at the front was Rodrick Stark, whose eyes remained focused on the map. The North's heir and former representative in parliament, he narrowly managed to escape King's Landing to avoid execution and fled home to Winterfell. Once he informed his father, Lord Jon Stark, the North rallied their armies and rose in rebellion against King Argilac IV. Having crossed the Neck with additional river lords led by Commander Arwood Frey, the northern armies grew larger with engineers and crannogmen saboteurs under the leadership of Commander Donnel Reed. As the leader of the Winter Wolves, Rodrick commanded the entire northern military on its long campaign south.</p>
<p>"So, which course of action are we going to take, my lord?" inquired Lieutenant Jorelle Mormont. "Do we confront the main Lannister host approaching from Harrenhal… or the one coming from the Golden Tooth?"</p>
<p>But before the heir to Winterfell could reply, there was a small commotion coming from outside nearing their tent – and the footsteps were growing louder. Someone was coming! Everyone stood at attention was some Stark and Frey guards hauled in a strange man, his hands tied behind his back and a burlap sack placed over his head before it was subsequently removed.</p>
<p>"Apologies for the intrusion, my lord," one of them said, "but we caught this man near one of our campsites."</p>
<p>"A spy?" growled Harmond.</p>
<p>"No, ser. He had <em>this</em> on him."</p>
<p>The guard reached into the man's pocket and pulled out a piece of paper before rolling it out onto the table. Once opened, it revealed a list of names… along with a hefty reward for each one.</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Lady Leandra BLACKWOOD of Raventree Hall. A Madwoman and a Revolutionist. Whose Crimes involve INCITING VIOLENCE and SEDITION. Dead or Alive. 100 Silver Stags REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Sharra ARRYN of the Eyrie. A Revolutionist and Traitor. For the Horrendous Crime of HIGH TREASON. Dead or Alive. 20,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Former Master of Whisperers Jaqoros HESTOHR of Braavos. A Coward and Traitor. Whose Crimes involve MURDER, AIDING AND ABETTING, and HIGH TREASON. Dead or Alive. 6,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Ser Rodrick STARK of Winterfell. A Lunatic and Traitor. Whose Crimes involve MURDER and TREASON. Dead or Alive. 1,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Former Master of Ships Lord Admiral Jacaerys VELARYON of Driftmark. A Coward and Traitor. For the Crime of DESERTION, AIDING AND ABETTING, and HIGH TREASON. Dead or Alive. 15,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Professor Samson of King's Landing. A Coward and Traitor. For the Horrendous Crime of HIGH TREASON. Dead or Alive. 30,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Colonel Vargo MAEGYR of Volantis. A Coward and Traitor. For the Crime of DESERTION and TREASON. Dead or Alive. 2,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>The rest goes on; there we many names listed and a few that were crossed off were labeled as either dead or captured until all eyes reached the last one.</p>
<p>
  <em>'WANTED: Prince Daemon BARATHEON of King's Landing. A Coward, Revolutionist, and Traitor. For the Horrific Crime of HIGH TREASON. Dead or Alive. 40,000 Gold Dragons REWARD.'</em>
</p>
<p>Rodrick and Brandon turned to glare at this man. It was clear that this was a bounty with all the highly-publicized names were confirmed as targets; the elder Stark being one of them. The Northmen and some river lords did not take too kindly to this man.</p>
<p>"This is a hit list," Martyn noted.</p>
<p>"Aye," the guard noted. "He says he's one of King Argilac's bounty hunters; hired and paid by General Gerion Lannister himself."</p>
<p>"We can <em>see</em> that, lad!" Harmond bellowed. "Don't worry. This one won't be leaving with his head on his shoulders for that much longer."</p>
<p>"And who benefits if I lose my head? Yourselves, I'm sure," the bounty hunter shrugged confidently. "I do not have any quarrel with you. I'm just doing my job."</p>
<p>"You're pretty confident for a dead man."</p>
<p>"As I said, it's just business. I was given the names of people His Grace wanted alive… or dead for that matter, either way, I got paid." He almost leaned in. "But what if I told you I'm open to making a deal? I've heard the Northmen are a direct group of people who value honor."</p>
<p>"And what proposal do you offer that could be of value or be beneficial to us?" pressed Brandon.</p>
<p>"Why, information. I've seen the encampments at both Harrenhal and the Golden Tooth before me and my brethren were dispatched."</p>
<p>"Your 'brethren'?"</p>
<p>"Aye. We're the Talons, a bounty hunter's guild from Dragon's Bay specializing in information gathering, subterfuge, and assassination. Each of us is unique and is ranked accordingly. The more skilled the Talon is, the higher they rise in the ranks; the dangerous we are, the greater the reward."</p>
<p>The Lord of Last Hearth grabbed him by the throat and raised him off the ground. "He's too dangerous to be left alive! If we let him go now, who's to say he won't go after the others? Especially our Swift Wolf?" he snarled. "I'd rather tear his throat out now and be rid of the threat altogether!"</p>
<p>"*Gah! Ack!*"</p>
<p>"But what if the information he has turns out to have merit?" Jorelle interjected. "If this man says he's seen both armies, we might have an idea as to how what we're truly up against?"</p>
<p>"And what if he says turns out to be nothing but a lie?! I say he's luring us into a trap."</p>
<p>"And if we go in blindly, <em>we'll </em>be the ones walking into a trap… my lord."</p>
<p>"*Ngh! Ack!*"</p>
<p>"Release him," Rodrick commanded.</p>
<p>Harmond and the others turned to the Swift Wolf in surprise, who crossed his arms and stared at the Lord of Last Hearth's grip around the bounty hunter's throat. He was still struggling to free himself as the hand around his neck got tighter and tighter. His canine companion, a large albino wolf, snarled viciously.</p>
<p>"Are you daft, boy?! Letting him—"</p>
<p>"I said release him… <em>Now</em>."</p>
<p>No raising his voice but still commanded a firm authoritative tone, Rodrick laid down his edict as commander of the Winter Wolves. Harmond begrudgingly released the bounty hunter, causing him to fall to the ground with a heavy thud. He gasped and coughed for air before as the Swift Wolf approached him and leaned in close to his ear.</p>
<p>"Tell us what we need to know," Rodrick whispered; his tone was cold. He was ready to kill at a moment's notice if he lied or felt threatened. "How many men? And who commands them?"</p>
<p>"*Ack!* *Cough, cough!* The… the ones from the Golden Tooth, around 10,000 men. Led by Captain Tyler Lannister, Gerion's nephew. They're headed for Wayfarer's Rest whose supply depot has 400 rebels. The… the Prince is… on his way there right now."</p>
<p>"What?!" Brandon exclaimed. "Daemon's here in the Riverlands?" he turned to Rodrick. "Brother, we have to—"</p>
<p>"Hush!" he commanded. "How did the Talons know of our cousin?"</p>
<p>"The King told us. We… the rest of us are hidden well within the shadows. The reason we haven't made a move yet is… *cough! cough!* is because the boy is no threat to us. Not yet anyway…"</p>
<p>"But you still mean to kill him?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"And what of the rest of the Lannister armies? How many? Who leads them?" he pressed further.</p>
<p>"You asked a lot of—"</p>
<p>"*Grrrr!*" the wolf clamped its jaws around his throat. The bounty hunter seized at the sudden crunching pressure, but the wolf maintained a firm grip yet did not bite down further at its master's command.</p>
<p>"My father taught me the meaning of mercy, when there is room for it," Rodrick claimed. "And honor and courage. But when one member of the pack is threatened by another, the rest of us will tear them to shreds. If I wanted to, Razor here could tear out your throat and you die within seconds. After what I went through in King's Landing at Argilac's hands, I am more inclined to do so. But I need that information. Talk and maybe you walk. Now, this is going to be the last time I will say it. How many in the second Lannister army and who leads them?"</p>
<p>"*Ack!* *Gasp!* 50,000 troops marching from Harrenhal!" the bounty hunter exclaimed. "General Gerion's son and heir Ser Loreon Lannister leads them! They are en route to Riverrun, where everyone else has gathered to defend it! If Riverrun falls, so too does the entire Riverlands! They'll then march North to Winterfell if that scenario does occur!"</p>
<p>Rodrick signals his wolf to release its grip. "Run back to King's Landing," he warned. "Tell my cousin Argilac and your client Lord Gerion, that winter is coming for them both. The North <em>remembers</em>. Now get out and never return."</p>
<p>The bounty hunter sprang to his feet and ran out the tent – intending to carry the message. But what made Rodrick wonder… why run? If the Talons were as feared as he said, why would he simply retreat or make a last-ditch effort to try to kill him? Could it be that this one was one of the weaker ones? And this list… if Daemon was indeed in the Riverlands and the bounty placed on his head was that high compared to the others, then his life would be in the gravest danger.</p>
<p>"Rod?" Brandon inquired.</p>
<p>"We have no choice but to send a splinter force to fend off the ones advancing on Wayfarer's Rest. The rest of us will have to initiate a pincer maneuver on the main Lannister host from the Whispering Wood. Remember, victory in battle is not always won through superior numbers. Even a Northmen is more than a match for the best southern swordsman."</p>
<p>"Are you sure that's wise, Lord Stark?" Donnel questioned. "Dividing our army in two will weaken our position against the main Lannister host. Unless the Vale decides to make a move—"</p>
<p>"Sharra's doing everything she can on her end, but the door swings both ways. While it is true Argilac's men unable to press further into the mountains to reach the Eyrie, the knights of the Vale themselves can't get to the kingsroad to help us either. And Argilac knows this. What we need is a momentary distraction until an opportunity presents itself." Rodrick placed on his wolf cloak. "Begin the advance. I want a full night's march before Loreon Lannister realizes we're on the move."</p>
<p>"Winter is coming!"</p>
<p>"Winter is coming!"</p>
<p>"Winter is coming!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>—At Wayfarer's Rest—</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Hold your position! Don't let those lions take Wayfarer's Rest!" shouted Corporal Clayse Hawthorne.</p>
<p>Exchanging gunfire and mortar fire with the approaching Lannister forces from Golden Tooth, the Tully soldiers and army defectors were in a fierce fight for their lives by defending the last major supply depot in the Riverlands. Outnumbered by an approximate 9,600, the rebels were standing on their last legs.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"There's so many of them!" exclaimed Private Mayra Trinner.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Enemy inbound south-by-southwest!" Private Emmelyne Tarth shouted.</p>
<p>"I see them! Take out the Lieutenant!"</p>
<p>"I'm almost out of gunpowder!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Enemy mortar fire has wiped out almost all of our defenses! The supply depot is on fire!"</p>
<p>"Somebody put that damn fire out!"</p>
<p>"Where're our reinforcements?! We need more troops on the—"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Mayra! NO!" shouted Emmelyne upon seeing her comrade's corpse after being shot in the head. "YOU LANNISTER BASTARDS!" She returned to aim her musket rifle down towards her assailants and unleashed more explosive shots, hitting four more Lannister officers – yet the numerous amounts of those who remained standing were nigh untouchable.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Far across the battlefield, Captain Tyler Lannister waved his longsword forward. "All units forward! Seize that pathetic supply depot from the rebels and secure provisions for our troops. Now!"</p>
<p>"A'ooo! A'ooo!" they chanted.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KABOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Tyler quickly turned to see his mortars were exploding from behind, creating shockwaves and scattering a large number of his troops. Someone had taken shots at their explosive materials, destabilizing them and causing them to blow up! What in Seven hells just happened? They were surrounded by dense trees and underbrush; too little too late did Tyler realize the forestry gave enemy ambush troops a perfect place to hide.</p>
<p>"Enemy attack!" one Lannister infantry soldier exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Was it from the rebels?!" another shouted.</p>
<p>"It came from behind!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KABOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"More coming from the left and right flanks!"</p>
<p>"Where are they?!"</p>
<p>"I can't see them anywhere!"</p>
<p>The Lannister army from the Golden Tooth began pointing their muskets, flintlocks, and cannons towards every single direction—aimed at the rebels and the surrounding areas. Even the rebels were somewhat surprised at the sudden act of espionage; one of them caught slight movement within the trees as more shots were fired—killing more Lannister troops from left and right flanks.</p>
<p>"This is for Harrenhal, you bastards!" shouted a common farmer.</p>
<p>Another army defector appeared from the underbrush. "This is for my wife and daughter you lions murdered!" he yelled.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The supply depot defenders wondered in disbelief until Petyr and Daemon sprang out of the woodwork, firing off their flintlocks at Lannister troops as they dove for cover.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"It's him! It's the Prince!" one Lannister troops spotted him.</p>
<p>Tyler saw an opportunity. "Men! Ignore this rabble! Get the Prince!" he yelled.</p>
<p>Petyr and Daemon lowered their heads behind cover as they sprang closer to the rebels who looked at them with surprise. One was an experienced soldier yet based on the shouting they had not expected Prince Daemon Baratheon to be with them as well.</p>
<p>"Major Petyr Harding of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights," he said loudly.</p>
<p>"Corporal Clayse Hawthorne of the 4th Infantry Division! Servant of House Tully! There are only two of you? You brought help?" Clayse asked.</p>
<p>"Some stragglers and resistance fighters. Guerrilla-style hit-and-run tactics. Who's in command here?"</p>
<p>"You're looking at her!"</p>
<p>Daemon flinched as balls of lead zipped past him. "What happened to Sergeant Arlen?" he asked.</p>
<p>Clayse pointed at a nearby body, his armor and facial features were recognizable which confirmed he was indeed Sergeant Arlen. "He was reinforcing a perimeter that was about to collapse! Lannisters got him, but not before he took out 50 of them with him! We've been holed up here fighting for our lives!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*WHIZ!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Ngh! How bad was the situation before we got here, Corporal?" Daemon asked.</p>
<p>"Ugh! There were 400 of us earlier! We lost 40 in the first wave, almost 100 the next! We tried taking out their commander with stolen artillery, but their cannons blew it all up! It was just—"</p>
<p>"Irrelevant," Petyr deducted.</p>
<p>"Yes, ser! We're all that's left! There's just too many of them!"</p>
<p>"Not for much longer! We just came from Riverrun! Colonel Vargo informed us that the Northmen are on their way here as we speak!"</p>
<p>"The Colonel's still alive? <em>And</em> we're getting reinforcements? Oh, thank the Gods!" Calyse exclaimed. Another shot whizzed past her short blonde hair. "Gah! Damn it!"</p>
<p>Daemon scurried his way over to her. "Our volunteers will focus on taking out their siege weapons and cavalry! We'll help you hold them off long enough until help comes!"</p>
<p>"Have I told you how much I hate this war?"</p>
<p>"You and me both!"</p>
<p>Nodding to each other with acknowledgment, Daemon and Petyr began aiding Clayse and the other rebel forces at Wayfarer's Rest against the much larger Lannister army. Although outnumbered, the volunteers and freedom fighters they brought along the way were giving the enemy one hell of a showdown. Renewed with vigor, the once disenfranchised rebels picked up their weapons and began shooting. One by one, they gunned down more Lannister soldiers before three more of them were killed in retaliation. The plan was simple: cause havoc from behind and all sides and hold their position long enough for the Northmen to come… if they could. If not quickly enough, then Wayfarer's Rest would be overrun even with enemy mortars being disabled one after the other.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*WHIZ!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"I'm almost out of gunpowder!" Daemon exclaimed. "Major, I need— GAAAH!" he gripped the side of his head as he was hit with a sudden burst of pain.</p>
<p>"Daemon?!" Petyr watched.</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …Be warned. The likelihood of betrayal from within is high… »</strong>
</p>
<p>"Daemon, what in Seven hells are you doing?! Focus! DAEMON!" the Vale soldier continued to shout.</p>
<p>The Prince could not focus; it is as if the sounds around him were deafening, accompanied by ringing in his ears. His eyes were shut tight, and he clenched his teeth in agony. It feels like his head was splitting in two. Why now? Why did this have to happen now of all places?</p>
<p>"DAEMON, BEHIND YOU!"</p>
<p>Daemon only managed to begin slightly opening his left eye, but the crippling pain forced him to turn too slowly when he saw one of the rebels aiming a flintlock pistol at his head.</p>
<p>"The Talons send their regards," was all he heard.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>

<p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>House Stark is set to send troops to both locations at Riverrun and Wayfarer's Rest, but will the Northmen make in time for the ultimate confrontation with Loreon Lannister before it's too late? And Daemon is once again hearing the mysterious voices in his head and it's causing him a great deal of pain. But what about this sudden act of betrayal? And who are these Talons? Find out next time in part 2.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Battle of Wayfarer's Rest (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The North chooses a side; Gerion exerts his influence.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"The Talons send their regards."</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon froze at the sight of the barrel pointed at his brow when a loud shot rang in his ears. Someone pulled the trigger, yet he was still standing. Before anyone could respond, the now-treacherous rebel had slumped over to the ground next to the Prince. From examining the corpse, he had seen that the would-be assassin was shot in the back. Daemon's head was still throbbing, and the sound of the gunshot made it worse but was overall relieved by this miracle act.</p>
<p>"*Aroooo!*" the cry of a distant howl was heard.</p>
<p>While Clayse and the other rebel sharpshooters remained under a barrage of enemy fire, Petyr's ears perked up at the sound of an approaching mounted charge. For a moment it seemed Captain Tyler or his troops did not even notice until…</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KABOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Squads of Lannister soldiers were sent flying in multiple different directions as a barrage of mortar fire came hailing down on them past the Red Fork; Tyler's gaze switch from being harassed left and right to suddenly being taken aback by the force of the impact from heavy artillery.</p>
<p>"What the—?! How did the rebels get mortars?!" Tyler exclaimed.</p>
<p>"We're getting bombarded from the forest, Captain!" shouted Lieutenant Humfrey Hill.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Well return fire!"</p>
<p>"We can't, ser! Most of our artillery has been sabotaged! We can't even see which direction enemy movement is coming from!"</p>
<p>"DO SOMETHING, BASTARD!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*KABOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon and Petyr searched the surrounding areas, with Clayse and the other rebels still firing their musket rifles and flintlock pistols at the Lannister soldiers along with local resistance fighters harassing them left and right. All was silent for a moment until the sound of horses galloping and wolves growling grew increasingly louder.</p>
<p>"Is that…?" Daemon wondered; his head still slightly throbbing from the warning call.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Within seconds, wolves and Stark cavalry rode past them and charged the Lannister footman; visibly spooked by the sight of wolves and northern weaponry being set loose on them. The rebels stationed at Wayfarer's Rest noticed the banners breezing through the air as each rode past them including the specialized logo beneath them—an armored grey direwolf running on an ice-white field. Petyr, however, noticed these troops. Common chain mail armor covered by leather boiled lamellar and occasional piece of steel or ironwork, these men fought more ferociously and were fiercer in addition to being highly organized and disciplined.</p>
<p><em>Rodrick Stark. </em>"It's the Winter Wolves!" Petyr called out. "All hands! Reinforcements from the North have arrived! Let's drive these golden lions out of the Riverlands and back to Casterly Rock! On us!"</p>
<p>"Hooorah!" Clayse and the other rivermen hollered.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*WHIZ!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon felt his mind boggle as Northmen and wolves darted across the battlefield, killing unsettled Lannister infantry soldiers before they had any time to react. Spotting Sergeant Arlen's discarded musket rifle, the Prince picked it back up and proceeded to memorize the instructions Samson gave him before they departed from Riverrun, filling it with gunpowder and a lead ball before ramming it down and filling a small amount into the pan, aimed his sights and fired—scoring a lucky hit on Lieutenant Humfrey Hill's carotid artery, rupturing the blood vessel and causing the Lannister army's second-in-command to drop to the ground in a pool of his life essence.</p>
<p>"Nice shot!" Emmelyne exclaimed.</p>
<p>Somehow Daemon felt a euphoric rush washing over him; whether it was from his recent first kill or his Baratheon genetics fueling the flow of adrenaline. Again, the Prince repeated the cycle: load, aim, shoot, reload, repeat. Over and over, instincts appeared to take over until he had to hide behind cover as the headaches kept growing stronger.</p>
<p>
  <strong>« …You must keep moving… »</strong>
</p>
<p>"Gah! Damn it!" Daemon cursed through his teeth; the burst of pain caused him to get a nosebleed.</p>
<p>Private Emmelyne noticed. "Hey! Are you all right?" she asked concerned.</p>
<p>"Uhhh… Yeah. Yes, I'll be fine." <em>At least, I think so.</em></p>
<p>Petyr, however, remained unconvinced. "'Fine'?! That little seizure of yours almost got you killed! Why didn't you tell us you had a sickness beforehand?!"</p>
<p>"I swear by the Old Gods and the New, I was feeling just fine until this happened!"</p>
<p>"Well consider yourself off the field. Go back to Riverrun!"</p>
<p>"That's not your call to make, Major!"</p>
<p>"Consider it my decision now, <em>Your Highness</em>! Return to your post or—"</p>
<p>"That's enough!" one of the Northmen approached.</p>
<p>Both Petyr and Daemon observed the high-ranking officer as the battle behind them was continuing with the Northmen seizing the advantage against the panicked Lannister host with their casualties beginning to outnumber Stark losses in a 5:1 ratio. His gaunt features made this officer noticeable to the rebel Prince.</p>
<p>"Brandon!" Daemon acknowledged.</p>
<p>"It's good to see you alive and well, cousin," the Stark returned the gesture before he glanced at the fallen assassin. "So, you had an encounter with the Talons as well? Good thing Commander Reed is one of our best sharpshooters."</p>
<p>"'Talons'? You mean the guy who up until recently tried to kill me?"</p>
<p>"Aye. We had a run-in with one of them two nights ago. He said they were only one of many, and each Talon is more dangerous than the other. What's more, he had on his person a list of names."</p>
<p>"Like a bounty?"</p>
<p>"Aye. Rodrick's name and yours are on the list… with the price on your head being the highest."</p>
<p>Daemon blinked with astonishment. He knew Argilac was vicious, cruel, and evil… but this? This was an astonishing new low, even for him. So, his brother does intend to murder him, an act of fratricide. This revolution was beyond stopping now. Argilac needed to be removed from the Andalosinian Throne permanently or no one on that list will be safe from him. Yet if these Talons had sleeper agents in the rebels' ranks, who knows the amount of damage Argilac could inflict.</p>
<p>"Colonel Brandon Stark, I'm Major Petyr Hardyng from the Vale of Arryn," he introduced himself. "While we are relieved that reinforcements have come to our aid, I feel it is my solemn duty to inform you of the Prince's condition—"</p>
<p>"I can see that Major Hardying," Brandon observed. "We've seen this once or twice in the North. But only occasions like <em>his</em> are considered exceedingly rare."</p>
<p>"Then you know what's wrong with him?"</p>
<p>Daemon shook the discomfort from his head. "But I feel fine now—"</p>
<p>"No, you're not! That one slipup almost cost us everything—"</p>
<p>"Enough!" Brandon barked again. "I might have an idea, but we'll need a maester first. Is there one nearby?"</p>
<p>Petyr shook his head. "No," he replied. "Maester Lawsen is still at Riverrun with General Samson and Colonel Vargo."</p>
<p>"Samson's returned to active duty?"</p>
<p>"Aye. He's been reinstated—"</p>
<p>"I named him Master of War and commander of my armies," Daemon interrupted feeling fed up with the Vale officer.</p>
<p>Brandon was getting curious the more he learns. "Then what business do you have here in the Riverlands, cousin? It's not safe for you here," he questioned.</p>
<p>"I need an army. A <em>real</em> army to help me defeat Argilac. This 'business' I'm on is part of it. I need the Vale's support, but they need the Riverlands' crops to feed their soldiers."</p>
<p>"Which they can't because the only way to get here through the high road is… I see. Well, you have quite the momentous task ahead of you, cousin. Just know you are not alone in this endeavor, nor will you ever be."</p>
<p>"You mean…?"</p>
<p>"The North will support your efforts against Argilac. But first, we will need to remove the Lannisters from the Riverlands before we can even muster a counteroffensive. Once we are done here, we'll join you."</p>
<p>Daemon breathed a sigh of relief. He caught his first lucky break. "That's more than sufficient. Thank you, Brandon," he said feeling grateful.</p>
<p>Petyr's face frowned at the Prince, looking as if he had sucked on a lemon. But regardless, that is one region so far that has chosen to side with the rebel forces. If the Riverlands and Vale follow suit, then a Revolutionary Army would be a force to be reckoned with—able to contend with the Royal Army itself. Before Petyr or Daemon could decide their next move, a rebel scout appeared from the woods and knelt before them.</p>
<p>"Report," he panted. "Your Highness, Major Hardyng… General Samson has requested you both return to Riverrun immediately. Colonel Vargo has found something."</p>
<p>Both men looked at each other.</p>
<p>"Go on, you two," Brandon motioned. "We'll take care of the rest."</p>
<p>Daemon and Petyr nodded at the Stark officer, who left to rejoin his troops in battling Captain Tyler Lannister who rushed at Brandon with his flintlock and sword raised. Both stag and falcon glanced at each other briefly—suspicion and resentment still lingering in the air between them—until they turned on their heels and fled into the forest along the Red Fork towards Riverrun. Gunfire and mortar fire still rang in their ears despite the sounds fading several distances behind them.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—</strong>
  <strong>At King's Landing—</strong>
</p>
<p>"*Ack!* *Gag!*" a Talon assassin choked as he was lifted off the ground by his throat.</p>
<p>Applying the powerful stranglehold on this bounty hunter stood Argilac, who in a fit of rage after learning of his failure to assassinate Rodrick Stark and word of Daemon's survival as well as the Northmen routing his armies along the western front, squeezed tighter around his neck. Wielding his massive warhammer in one hand whilst strangling the man with the other, Argilac stood all above all currently assembled in the throne room. Despite his intimidation and overall aggressiveness, only Gerion Lannister remained unmoved.</p>
<p>Clutching desperately at his throat, the Talon's eyes start to roll back.</p>
<p>"Apology accepted, Talon Zharreq," Argilac mocked angrily. With a tighter grip, malevolent stag King quickly flicked his wrist sideways and snapped the Talon's neck with an audible crunch.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*CRACK!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Once the Talon's arms slumped to his sides, Argilac released his grip—causing the slain assassin to fall to the ground near his feet. Two of his elite personal guards pick up the lifeless body and carry it away quickly as the Small Council members hurry up to the King. Among the members included Ser Stefon Parne, the Master of War; Asten, the Grand Maester; Lord Gilbar Centyre, the Master of Coin; Lord Daltis Harclay, the Master of Commerce; Azleq mo Rhou, the new Master of Whisperers; Ser Bryen Granes, the Master of Laws; Aurane Waters; the new Master of Ships; and Ser Edam Marbrand, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. They were being led by the Hand of the King, Lord Gerion himself.</p>
<p>"Report from the frontlines," Argilac commanded.</p>
<p>"Rodrick Stark and his army, the Winter Wolves, have made contact with Captain Tyler Lannister near Wayfarer's Rest – the latest known rebel supply base in the Riverlands," Azleq informed his master. "However, we have—"</p>
<p>"We've noticed that the Swift Wolf dispatched only a splinter force to that location," Stefon interrupted. "Our frontline commanders received word early this morning that the main force is advancing on Riverrun from two angles in preparation for Captain Loreon's arrival from Harrenhal."</p>
<p>"And what of my little brother's forces on the east coast?"</p>
<p>"We tried advancing on the rebel fleet near Gulltown, but Jacaerys Velaryon anticipated our arrival. He has repelled assault after assault. It would seem the former Lord Admiral is a remarkable seafarer, and a master of naval warfare."</p>
<p>"I agree," Aurane replied. "The damage his armada inflicted on the Royal Fleet… 20 of our ships were destroyed, 10 were damaged beyond repair, and 5 had to return to the harbor for a few weeks of work – whilst Jacaerys's vessels remain afloat. We had no choice but to withdraw."</p>
<p>"That's because you bloody fools DON'T KNOW HOW TO PROPERLY <em>USE</em> THEM!" Argilac roared. "When you challenge my traitorous uncle in open waters, then yes he will have the advantage! Because he <em>knows</em> them! Because every son of House Velaryon is given the taste of a seafarer's life as soon as they come of age to become the masters of their element – which is the seas itself!" He remembered his childhood; his late father Jaerys Velaryon always wanted to teach both his sons the ways of a mariner and often took the royal family sailing with him. As a child, he always expressed deep disinterest in it with a passion and would often complain loudly whenever he was forced to go by his mother, but his younger brother was the opposite: he loved the sea which Jacaerys picked up on. "And what of the other Talons? Are they in position?"</p>
<p>"They are, Your Grace," Azleq confirmed. "But after what happened with the Swift Wolf, I suspect it won't be long before the rebels begin a routine background check to route them out."</p>
<p>"The paranoia will eat away at them until they reach a point where they will not know who to trust – so long as chaos and confusion keep them off-balance long enough for my army to crush them once and for all. 'The King in the Narrow Sea', huh! My brother still has much to learn about waging war before calling himself a King."</p>
<p>"Regardless, Your Grace," Gerion interjected, "It would be wise not to forget that Prince Daemon has three seasoned warriors counseling him—Samson, Jacaerys, and Vargo—with the addition of possessing a formidable fleet of his own. And with the North declaring for him, to underestimate what the boy could one day be capable of by rallying your enemies to his cause would bring about one's undoing."</p>
<p>That comment made Argilac sneer. "You expect me to be afraid of a little green boy?" he mocked.</p>
<p>"I expect you to not underestimate your opponents, no matter how big or small they appear to be, whether in politics or warfare. Such as the teachings of King Durran II the Bold were passed on more than 100 years ago. Otherwise, how else would House Baratheon retain its position as the royal family of Westeros for eight centuries?"</p>
<p>"Do not pretend to assume you know more than me," the Argilac pointed a finger at his Hand, reddening. "I am THE KING!"</p>
<p>"Any man who said 'I am the King' is no true King at all. When your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you. The last Targaryen sovereign, Aerys II the Mad, failed to understand that 850 years ago before the Baratheons ascended to power. I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you, restored the King's peace and the King's justice. The only matter that needs your attention right now is producing a legitimate heir to further the family line should the worse come to pass."</p>
<p>Argilac had that defiant, malevolent look. The Baratheon ruler had surprised his Small Council as they scuffled a safe distance away as he gripped his war hammer tightly. Gerion, however, did not flinch. He remained calm, collected, and composed and studied Argilac in silence, golden flecks shining in his pale green eyes.</p>
<p>"Do not forget who made you a General in the first place, Lord Gerion! My grandfather made you what you are, and I can easily unmake you with a simple snap of my fingers. We won all our battles! Everyone knows it is true. Why even bother hiding from the truth? My ancestor King Robert I killed Prince Rhaegar Targaryen at the Battle of the Trident and won the crown, his son killed Daenerys Targaryen in the War for Westeros, while one of <em>your</em> ancestors hid under Casterly Rock until the last second and the other was no more than a drunk, lecherous dwarf!" he shouted, giving his Hand a cold, defiant look. "Strong rulers act with bold, affirmative action, not waste time with idle talk."</p>
<p>The room goes silent as the depth of the insult sinks in.</p>
<p>"The King is tired. See him to his chambers," Lord Gerion said with courtesy so cold it was like to freeze anyone's ears off.</p>
<p>Argilac is stunned by the sudden change in atmosphere, which angers him greatly. "I'm not tired!" he insisted.</p>
<p>"Grand Maester, perhaps some dreamwine with a dose of essence of nightshade to help him sleep restfully." The Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West would have paid more heed to a mouse scurrying in the corner. "The rest of you, remain."</p>
<p>As Asten and the Kingsguard tried to gently escort Argilac away, he remained defiant.</p>
<p>"I… AM NOT… TIRED!"</p>
<p>Hell, even some of his elites were more scared of Gerion than of Argilac and helped to usher him to his bedchamber. By firmly putting his foot down and demonstrating both his political experience and military power as well as his great wealth, it seemed to be apparent that only Lord Gerion Lannister was the only one in King's Landing to be able to restrain King Argilac… for the moment. Indeed, since his appointment as Hand of the King, Gerion felt the need to restore order was sorely needed these last four years. But he did not, of course, forget that it was King Ormund II Baratheon himself who promoted Gerion to the rank of General in the Royal Army. The two were, in the beginning, best friends until they began to drift apart and ended when the Great Spring Sickness took him.</p>
<p>His daughter Shiera kept the Old Lion at a distance until her time unexpectedly came too.</p>
<p>
  <em>And now they are not worthy of anything.</em>
</p>
<p>"M-my lord," Lord Gilbar stuttered, "was that really wise?"</p>
<p>"And what were you all telling him at court, I wonder? I did not fight three wars to retain House Baratheon's sovereignty just to endure such incompetence. You gave me to understand His Grace needed guidance, not flattery or foolishness."</p>
<p>"But Argilac is the King," Daltis mentioned. "He's the most powerful man in Westeros."</p>
<p>"You're a fool if you honestly believe he's the most powerful man in Westeros."</p>
<p>"A treasonous statement!"</p>
<p>"Tell me: do you really believe a crown gives you power?"</p>
<p>Some of them avoided his gaze.</p>
<p>"N-no," Bryen answered. "An army does."</p>
<p>"Mm-hmm," the Old Lion nodded.</p>
<p>"The Royal Army of Westeros stands as the most powerful military force the known world has ever seen; its influence even reaching as far west to Mirantibus Spe—our proud colony."</p>
<p>"Mm-hmm."</p>
<p>"Yet even now we've noticed signs of fragmentation," Stefon raised the subject. "The Talons—"</p>
<p>"Their methods for getting the job done will be approved from me. So, explain methodically why it's more publicly appropriate to kill 10,000 men in battle rather than a dozen at dinner from the shadows? Do you disapprove?"</p>
<p>No response came.</p>
<p>"Good," Gerion stiffly noted before pacing to the window. That was unlike him; he was more furious than he wished to show. "Argilac will need a sharp lesson… as will Daemon in due time." He turned to the Master of War. "Send the word to my son. Tell Loreon to show no mercy if the rebels continue to defy us."</p>

<p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>With the Northmen arriving at Wayfarer's Rest and taking the Lannister army approaching from the Golden Tooth completely by surprise, Daemon has already secured the allegiance of the North for his cause in the Clash of Antlers. But as he and Petyr seek to return to Riverrun upon learning of Samson's discovery, what could they hope to find? And more importantly, what of the Prince's dreams of warning that's giving him a hard time concentrating? But lastly, Argilac made his disappointment in failure known—yet Gerion demonstrates his power in the capitol. Does he remind you guys of someone in particular?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Finding the Lost Trout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prince Daemon discovers a long-forgotten trout.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—At Riverrun—</strong>
</p>
<p>Daemon and Petyr rushed back to Riverrun under a barrage of shouting, gunfire, and mortar fire. It seemed the fighting had intensified while they were away defending Wayfarer's Rest—the second Lannister host had arrived from Harrenhal in droves and began their assault on House Tully's ancestral castle. Dozens of rebels and defectors were getting picked off as the rest scrambled to either return fire or hide under whatever cover they came across.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Once the gates behind them had closed, the duo ran up the steps and returned to the command post with General Samson aiming down his sights to snipe squads of Lannister infantry and engineers. Even in his old, crippled state, the Master of War and commander of the rebel armies remained a highly skilled sharpshooter.</p>
<p>"General!" Petyr shouted.</p>
<p>Samson noticed their arrival. "You both came back in one piece. That tells us Wayfarer's Rest is secured then. Good. We just— Wait, what in Seven hells happened to you? Why is he so pale?" he referred to dry blood from Daemon's nose.</p>
<p>Petyr opened his mouth to say something, but the Prince shot him a glare. Both young men continued staring each other down before Daemon turned to Samson.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Never mind that now," he said firmly. "How bad did the situation become after we left, General?"</p>
<p><em>He's now had his first taste of actual combat, is sounding more confident than he was before, and carries himself into battle with a renewed sense of vigor like a real soldier. Good. That means he's learning fast. This keeps up and the Prince might hold his own against seasoned veterans. You taught him well, Jaerys, </em>Samson psychoanalyzed him. "I won't lie to you, Your Highness. Now that Ser Loreon's army has arrived in force, our scouts are reporting heavy casualties on the frontlines. 400 dead in the first wave, 700 the second. We tried setting up advance positions east along the Tumblestone River, to flank the enemy before they had time to set up their artillery. However—"</p>
<p>"It seemed irrelevant."</p>
<p>"Exactly. The sheer number of lions appears to make them immune to that sort of tactic. Our troops found that out the hard way. If this keeps up, we'll all be wiped out."</p>
<p>"Your scouts said you have something important to tell us?"</p>
<p>Colonel Vargo shot more hostile forces before turning around. "Right now, the Riverlands are in chaos—with so many dead, wounded, missing, or captured." He glanced at his left. "Commander."</p>
<p>"Ser!" a nearby soldier saluted. His armor appeared steel plate over chainmail with the tabard of his family's house covering the front of his breastplate; a silver eagle on a bluish-violet field.</p>
<p>"Give them the rundown."</p>
<p>"Commander Broden Mallister, son and heir to my father Lord Brynden Mallister of Seagard. I led the 4th Eagle Brigade in the Royal Army before defecting to the rebels. General Samson and Colonel Vargo both reiterated that if we lose Riverrun, we lose all the Riverlands. Regardless of our situation, it is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness."</p>
<p>Daemon nodded. "Pleasure is all mine, Commander. What have you got?" he asked.</p>
<p>"After a rather protracted study in the castle libraries, Maester Lawsen made a remarkable discovery. We found the exact person we need to lead the Riverlands out of this mess. Your Highness, it is my duty to report that the next Lord Paramount of the Trident is General Willem Tully."</p>
<p>Samson pinched his nose. "Willem Tully. That's a name I grow tired of hearing," he grimaced.</p>
<p>Broden appeared confused, as did Daemon and Petyr. If the mere mention of this man was enough to cause Samson a great deal of annoyance, there had to be some sort of history between the two.</p>
<p>"You… know this man, General?" Petyr inquired.</p>
<p>"Lord Edmyn's older twin brother and the black sheep of the family. He was disowned when he chose to enlist in the Royal Military Academy at the same time as I did, but he has been nothing a standoffish trout who openly flaunts the chain of command on more than one occasion. Got himself demoted six times because of his misconduct. Drinking, insubordination, getting into a physical altercation with a superior officer… to this day I still don't understand how or why he rose through the ranks given his service record, but I do know that if he has a goal in mind, he can be quite tenacious."</p>
<p>"But ser," Broden chimed, "wild, unorthodox, reckless behavior or not, he's popular with his troops, and like it or not he's still a Tully—"</p>
<p>"He also fucked my wife, squirted his bastard into her belly, and destroyed my marriage!"</p>
<p>All three men cringed; it appeared there was a deep grudge Samson held for Willem. But as Borden said, like it or not, Willem still carries the Tully name. With his siblings gone, he was next in line to assume the role as Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident; and if his unorthodox methods could help the rebels turn the tide against Ser Loreon Lannister, they'll have to take whatever help they can get.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Commander," Daemon spoke again, "how… unorthodox is he?"</p>
<p>"Well… during the Battle at the Bloodstone, his unit—the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps—discovered a legion of pirate-lords around the same time the Magisters of Myr did," Broden explained. "Rather than follow King Ormund III's instructions to neutralize the pirates, he held his forces back and allowed both sides to attack each other until they wore themselves down before General Willem seized the opportunity and moved his troops back in. No casualties. And without a Tully in command, the river lords will remain divided and confused; only General Willem can unite them. He could be our only hope of driving the Lannisters out of the Riverlands for good. And none of us are beating King Argilac alone."</p>
<p>"Only together do we stand a fighting chance."</p>
<p>"How will we find him?" Vargo asked.</p>
<p>"I know where he is!" the Commander exclaimed.</p>
<p>"You do?"</p>
<p>"Yes. I was fighting alongside him and his daughters two weeks ago before we got separated. Last I saw him, he said he was moving to repel a Lannister raiding party at Wendish Town just north of here. It's below Seagard so my family's been there a few times."</p>
<p>Daemon nodded. "All right, we've got to move fast on this one. Let us go get him and rendezvous back here as quickly as possible. I <em>refuse</em> to lose another Tully. Coming with us, Commander?"</p>
<p>Broden eagerly grabbed the hilt of his sword and flintlock. "I'm right behind you, Your Highness!" he confirmed.</p>
<p>"And Major Hardyng, I meant what I said. Keep Prince Daemon safe," Samson ordered before moving to return to his sharpshooting position. Aiming down his sights, he shot off another round only to stop to reload and repeat.</p>
<p>Again, Daemon and Petyr ran down the steps of Riverrun with Broden accompanying them as their guide to Wendish Town. And again, after departing, the gates behind them closed. With a new pair of horses, the trio could make the ride to their destination that much faster—provided their horses did not get shot out from under them again.</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>The Riverlands – Wendish Town…</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>Riding north, it took them 2-3 days before they arrived to see Lannister soldiers raiding the town. It shamed historians that since Wendish Town had recovered from Ser Gregor Clegane's rampage as a brigand eight centuries ago was under siege once more; and yet, there were numerous officers loyal to King Argilac IV going from door-to-door, threatening the town's inhabitants and setting fire to its holdfasts as the local militia tried to fight back.</p>
<p>"Get out of our town!" Broden exclaimed, pulling his flintlock, and shot a Lannister soldier.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Enemies at the entrance!" a senior officer hollered. "Kill them all!"</p>
<p>"Find the General!"</p>
<p>"Rebel scum!"</p>
<p>"Kill the Prince!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The trio scattered into different areas before dismounting; as Lannister infantry was busy reloading their muskets, Daemon, Petyr and Broden were quick enough to unsheathe their blades and managed to get in close to cut them down.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SLASH!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Wielding the legendary blade of his ancestor Stormbringer in one hand, Daemon again felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins—the euphoria of meeting an opponent in an open battle before plunging his sword deep into their abdomen.</p>
<p>"Bleargh!" he gurgled.</p>
<p>Pulling back, Daemon encountered another charging at him with his longsword on the downward swing; only to parry left and right before Petyr thrust his sword into his back. Broden, in the meanwhile, held some of his own until he noticed more Lannister soldiers were advancing on their positions. Before any could pull out their firearms, several audible shots emanated from the buildings all around them.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Resistance fighters! We've got cover from the towers!" Broden observed.</p>
<p>"Gah! Go on ahead, Commander Broden," one of the militias motioned. "We'll take care of this lot!"</p>
<p>"Have you seen General Willem?!"</p>
<p>"Half an hour ago heading west further into town!"</p>
<p>"Gods be with you!"</p>
<p>"Same!"</p>
<p>Upon being pointed into the direction they need to go, Daemon, Petyr, and Broden noticed a few explosive bombardments accompanied by the cries of those caught in the crossfire. Avoiding falling towers and burning debris, they sprinted further into the heart of town when they saw a group of river lords holding the line in an encircling position—in the middle flew the banner of House Tully. With more soldiers and resistance fighters from the Riverlands pouring in from each corner of the town, it became apparent that this squad consisted of young women who served in the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps.</p>
<p>Broden spotted an elderly man in the middle. "There he is! That's him! That's General Willem Tully!" he pointed at him.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"That looks bad!" Daemon exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Double-time! Move it!" Petyr shouted.</p>
<p>"All right, girls! Light 'em up! Give them everything you've got!" an old man ordered in a hoarse, smoky tone.</p>
<p>"Understood!" a teenage girl replied.</p>
<p>"Enemies won't make it past us!" another echoed.</p>
<p>"Let's show them what the Tullys are made of!" an older woman shouted.</p>
<p>Within the heart of their defensive position stood General Willem Tully donning a brown scaled lamellar assembled onto blackened steel with the silver trout leaping on a red and blue background etched onto his sash. A tall man with his facial features lined and weathered with a long white beard, long once-auburn hair gone to grey with deep blue eyes and bushy eyebrows. Despite his age, Willem was tenacious in driving out the lions of House Lannister alongside his daughters—trueborn Marian (31), Willa (24), Leandra (20), Minisa (19), and Roslin Tully (17), as well as his bastards Shella Rivers (32), Wynafrei Hill (30), Alyssa Waters (29), Melissa Flowers (25), Bethany Rivers (23), and Jeyne Storm (21).</p>
<p>"Father!" Wynafrei shouted. "Father, Commander Broden's back with help!"</p>
<p>"Never mind that now, lass!" Willem grunted. "You there! Lay down some cover fire, gods damn it!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Turn up the heat!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Diving for cover on the other side with the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps, Daemon, Petyr, and Broden all began taking shots at Lannister footmen with both flintlocks and muskets while the rest of the Tully forces took unorthodox methods of driving back the enemy such as sabotaging siege weapons, baiting and switching to overall rushing them head-on until they became divided and confused. Balls of lead whizzed through the air, breaking off pieces of stone and brushing past people's hair; other times, for a Tully downed, three Lannisters were felled too. After what felt like hours, the raiding party turned on their heels.</p>
<p>"Look! They're pulling back!" Minisa pointed.</p>
<p>"They're retreating," Marian agreed.</p>
<p>"Yes! We won the day!" Shella and Alyssa cheered loudly.</p>
<p>The rest of Wendish Town's militia also joined in on the celebration. Willem was among them, though his eyes remained glued to the fleeing lions. No doubt they would try again one day, but the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps would remain the first and last line of defense. More of his men regrouped with their commander, heaping praises and saluting him. He huffed before he noticed the new arrivals heading towards him.</p>
<p>"Are you General Willem Tully?" Daemon asked.</p>
<p>Willem eyed the youth up and down cautiously. <em>Who is this boy? </em>"And what's it to you?" he deflected.</p>
<p>"I'm Prince Daemon of House Baratheon."</p>
<p>"Ah, so you're the rebel Prince I've heard so much about. I'm surprised that your brother simply didn't execute you yet or perhaps he's finally gotten sloppy. You're a long way from home, child." He turned to Broden. "Commander, where the hell did you run off to?" he demanded.</p>
<p>"Riverrun with Colonel Vargo, ser. Ser Loreon Lannister's army has arrived from Harrenhal in full force," Broden explained. "His Highness and Major Hardyng were tasked with finding you."</p>
<p>"For what?"</p>
<p>Daemon inhaled. "General, your presence is sorely needed at Riverrun. I'll have to ask you to please come with me."</p>
<p>"Bah!" Willem huffed. "It's going to take much more than a simple 'please' to make me leave my daughters or my troops in the middle of a—"</p>
<p>"Your brother Lord Edmyn and sister Lady Myranda are dead," the Prince swiftly cut him off. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but… you are the new Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your compatriots need you to immediately assume your rightful place at Riverrun to help them drive out the Lannisters."</p>
<p>For a moment, there seemed to be a faint twinge of surprise and shock in the old man's eyes. To not only learn that both his siblings were dead, but he was now in charge of leading the Riverlands as the head of House Tully? The seat of his ancestors, the family words… 'Family, Duty, Honor'… every Tully child—sons and daughters—learned these words by heart. He had not set foot in Riverrun in almost 30 years since he ran away to join the Royal Army in an act of defiance against his parents' wishes; he was not even sure if anyone he grew up with had even remembered him. Maybe they did but chose not to, maybe they did not and simply moved on without him.</p>
<p>"Father?" Bethany inquired, noticing how quiet Willem had suddenly gotten.</p>
<p>Willem took a few paces forward to the city's fountain. The water was slightly dirtied with the fallen debris of stone and wood, but he could still see his reflection off the surface. "Edmyn, Myranda… they're both dead?" he repeated.</p>
<p>"Yes, ser."</p>
<p>"How did they die?"</p>
<p>Petyr stepped in. "Lord Edmyn Tully was killed at the Battle of Harrenhal by Ser Loreon Lannister's men. He sacrificed himself to allow his people to escape," he explained.</p>
<p>Broden nodded. "And… Lady Myranda Tully… she was one of those who were executed by King Argilac himself after parliament was dissolved."</p>
<p>This was a lot for the old General to take in. Once he regained his nerves, he turned his sights towards the Prince. "You said your name was Daemon, right? What is your mission?"</p>
<p>"I'm forming a revolutionary army to remove my brother from the throne," Daemon started to explain, hoping the Tully would listen to his pleas. "After we escaped from King's Landing during the riots, we knew we had to act. We moved our main base of operation to the Eyrie deep within the Mountains of the Moon, with my navy stationed at Gulltown – the Vale's major port. Lady Sharra of House Arryn, the new ruler of the Vale and Wardeness of the East, wishes to ally with House Tully to secure crops for her soldiers to eat. In return, she would deploy the Vale's military to help turn the tide against Argilac and General Gerion Lannister—the two people responsible for murdering your siblings. I know my brother; I know how he thinks… but I cannot defeat him alone. I need your help."</p>
<p><em>The boy's got guts telling me quite a tale, but the so-called King in the Narrow Sea still has much to learn about more than just winning battles. He's got to win over his men's loyalty with action and merit, not just words. </em>"And so, you expect me to just do… do what exactly? <em>Be</em> the Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident?"</p>
<p>"Yes, ser."</p>
<p>Willem shook his head. "Look boy, you sound like you have quite the task ahead of you. I get that, but you're asking the wrong man," he said hoarsely. "The truth is I don't know anything about you other than just your name. And you come from the royal family, which I've had problems with. The politics and all that. I've spent my entire life in the military serving my country. I'm no politician, and I <em>hate</em> politicians. Wet shits tend to get in the way of what's important."</p>
<p>"You'd refuse your superiors again, ser?" Petyr said indignantly.</p>
<p>"Watch your tone, Major."</p>
<p>Daemon tilted his head. "But if you hate politics so much, what makes you so sure you don't even want this? Why too hesitant?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Because as I said earlier, I preferred life in the army. And because I prefer to not hide behind words or acts of flattery, I tend to be brutally honest. So naturally, I piss a lot of people off—including the monarchy," Willem explained. "This is who I am, and I'm damn proud of it. All the other highborn lords and ladies never get the full picture until the gates of the Seven hells are at their front gates."</p>
<p>"Which is <em>why</em> your experience is sorely needed, General!" Daemon pressed. "You've been through hell; you've seen firsthand the devastation war brings. And given the current state of affairs our beloved country faces today, we need men and women who've been through that hell. To put a stop to Argilac's tyranny once and for all and bring back the <em>real</em> Royal Army of Westeros our ancestors founded."</p>
<p>"Huh. The day I picked up my rifle and swore the oath of service, I swore to defend my country against all enemies—foreign and domestic. I swore to defend the royal family as well did. I may not follow the rules regarding the chain of command, but even I know things aren't meant to be this way. Families have torn apart with brothers fighting brothers, fathers having to bury their sons… Your brother and his lackeys don't care about the bigger picture."</p>
<p>"It was never supposed to have gotten this far."</p>
<p>"And let us say for the sake of argument that you do succeed in this little mission of yours, what will you do afterward about our armed forces? What will you do about the Royal Army you claim to support?"</p>
<p>"My father, grandfather, great-grandfather… all my forebears before me served in the military. They are meant to protect the people against our enemies, not suppress them or stain the honor of the uniform by committing such vile acts like rape, murder, or torture. It goes against everything our country stands for."</p>
<p>Willem folded his arms. <em>That look in the eye… I've only seen it a few times in my day. </em>"Go on."</p>
<p>"Honestly? I'm not sure I even know what I'm doing half the time," Daemon felt exhausted. "But uniting the other Great Houses to the revolution is going to require a lot of strength, patience, willpower, and determination. So far, we have the North and several other houses in the Crownlands. But that alone is not enough." He points to the devastation around them. "See this? All this death? If we don't join forces, the nightmare will never end and Argilac wins. I need your help to stop him. Please, General, I need the support of House Tully. I need the Riverlands. Please…"</p>
<p>Again, Willem listened closely to the Prince's words and pleas. He needed help, but the Tully general was not too keen on being a lord. Slowly piecing the puzzle together, the town had grown silent with many awaiting his answer. His teeth gritted and shook his head sighing.</p>
<p>"Give me a moment to say goodbye to my daughters," Willem conceded. "All right, lasses! I'm stepping down as commander of the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps. Marian, you'll be taking my place from now on. Girls, you support your sister, do you hear me? Now I want the rest of you to redirect our forces to Riverrun! Let's go show Gerion's boy how dangerous a trout can be!"</p>
<p>Daemon breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed his words finally gotten through despite Samson's earlier misgivings about him. Perhaps Willem was man who <em>can</em> be reasoned with after all; even Petyr was rather surprised about the Prince taking the initiative instead of it being the other way around. However, the celebration was short-lived as Willem again approached him.</p>
<p>"One more thing, lad," he said. "I understand you need the Riverlands' backing and our crops, but I cannot spare any men or rations to your cause. Not while my homeland remains threatened by the Lannisters. However, my girls have just recently discovered the lions have been using ships along the Sunset Sea to resupply their troops, transport heavy artillery, and more. If the pressure can be taken off us along the western coast, the problem will go away for good."</p>
<p>"Wait, what?" Petyr said with disbelief.</p>
<p>Even Daemon was taken aback. "Th-that's a pretty tall order, ser," he stammered. "My navy is on the other side of the continent—"</p>
<p>"Use your brains, boy!" Willem leaned in close to whisper into the Prince's ear. "We need the Greyjoys and their Iron Fleet. They possess one of the largest naval forces in the entire kingdom and they know how to use them. So long as your brother's ships remain weighed at anchor, they'll just keep coming at us relentlessly and you can kiss your sorry little revolution goodbye. Get the ironborn to help us, and then we can help you. Understood?" he pressed before leaving.</p>
<p><em>The… the Greyjoys</em>, Daemon shuddered. The last ironborn he met was Briala Greyjoy, one of the Iron Islands' representatives at parliament. Last he heard, she herself was one of those who did not make it out alive and was summarily executed. Word was the Lady Reaper of Pyke, Asha Greyjoy, was furious upon learning of her sister's fate and ordered the ironborn to raid castles along the western coastlines. But if the Tullys needed the Greyjoys to defeat the Lannisters, then this assignment just got a lot more complicated.</p>
<p>"Damn that old man!" Petyr cursed. "If it's not one thing, then it's another! General Samson is not going to be pleased about this."</p>
<p>"Gods damn it…" Daemon shook his head with disbelief. "Commander…?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Your Highness?" Broden replied.</p>
<p>"How can we get to the Iron Islands from here?"</p>
<p>"We can go to Seagard and take a ship to Pyke, but we'll have to be careful about being on the open waters."</p>
<p>"Wait! Hold on! You're seriously not considering <em>going</em> to the Iron Islands, are you?" Petyr said bewildered. "The Greyjoys are privateers and spit in the face of honor! I refuse to allow you to be a part of this!"</p>
<p>Daemon glanced over his shoulder. "Pār kostā pālegon se jikagon lenton," he responded in High Valyrian.</p>
<p>"What did you say?"</p>
<p>"I said 'Then you can turn around and go home.' And let Samson know how you refuse to uphold your oath, <em>Major</em>. Because I'm done playing around." With nothing more to say, Daemon returned to his horse along with Broden.</p>
<p>"Ah, fuck!" Petyr cursed and followed them.</p>
<p>With all three leaving Wendish Town for Seagard, it would take time to book a passage through Ironman's Bay to Pyke, one of the seven archipelagos off the western coast making up the Iron Islands. From there, they'd arrive at Lordsport and travel to the castle of Pyke to seek an audience with Asha Greyjoy… the Lady of Iron Islands, Queen of Salt and Rock, Daughter of the Sea Wind, and Lady Reaper of Pyke.</p>
<p>And something told the Prince he was going to be in for a rough scenario.</p>

<p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another chapter concluded with the discovery of another Tully, but Prince Daemon's troubles are only just beginning as the Riverlands won't make a move unless the Iron Islands agree to help them. What do you guys think of how Daemon might try to navigate through the ironborn? Or will his efforts prove futile? Find out next time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Battle of Riverrun (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The strongest warriors of House Lannister and House Stark meet in combat.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—At Riverrun—</strong>
</p>
<p>The army converging onto Riverrun had encamped themselves on a hillside several yards away, blasting the lowlands with heavy artillery fire and decimating the rebels' frontline squads one by one. With the arrival of high-powered cannon-like mortars, Ser Loreon gave the signal to his men to thin the number of Tully soldiers and army defectors before moving more of his troops further inward. On the other side, House Tully retained a variety of assorted artillery pieces and cannons to slow the Lannister army down, but even that only served to stall for time. Loreon's army was several times larger in size and the Golden Lion himself was a talented commander—giving his forces a significant advantage.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"Such a pitiful sight," Loreon said feeling bored. <em>Why do they even bother?</em> "The rebels are no match for us. If they only had the sense of bend the knee, they would not be suffering this much. Come men, time to fish for some trout."</p>
<p>"Aye, aye, ser!"</p>
<p>"Major," one of his captains chimed, "are you certain you wish to leave the main camp?"</p>
<p>"I haven't had a proper time to wet my blade in quite some time. I had hoped for a more decent challenge at Harrenhal, but none could even last longer than 30 seconds against me. Besides, the rebels are small and insignificant. I need not worry. This battle will be over before it has a chance to escalate. Our scouts report that Ser Rodrick Stark is somewhere among the enemy ranks. I heard his men call him 'the Swift Wolf'. If true, then I might have a worthy opponent for once." He clicked his heel, directing his horse to move. "Captain, I leave the main camp to you. Hyah!"</p>
<p>"*Neigh!*"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*SSSSHBLAMM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Galloping with his vanguard, Loreon rode down the slopes—sword drawn and three-barreled flintlock at the ready. His troops were already taking several shots at rebel forces in their path; others simply got close enough to put their swords to good use before any had the chance to unsheathe theirs.</p>
<p>"Ha! Come on! Is this the best you can do?" he hollered as he slays more of his foes, his troops entering the fray.</p>
<p>A sense of change fills the rebels as upon seeing the Golden Lion, many turned to flee—only to be shot in the back. High in the sky, the weather begins to turn. The sun is suddenly hidden behind darkened storm clouds as the rain finally begins to fall. Galloping through the wettened terrain, both sides realized their gunpowder was rendered useless, forcing them to engage in close quarters. Swords clashed; shouts hurled… the fields of Riverrun was a scene of utter carnage.</p>
<p>"Gah!" shouted a militia.</p>
<p>Loreon swung his sword, swiftly cutting the man down. "Begone from my sight, peasant!" he exclaimed. Another rebel tried swinging at him, but he too met his end. "My father's ambitions shall never die! Hah! All of you worthless, insolent scum… shall be destroyed!" he slew another, living up to his reputation as a skilled swordsman.</p>
<p>Another officer rushed towards him; the ranking insignia patched onto his left shoulder indicated he was once a member of the Royal Army, so he had to have at least <em>some</em> experience. But alas, the youth only lasted twelve seconds before being disarmed and knocked to the ground. He looked up at Ser Loreon, still gripping his sword, and pointed his three-barreled flintlock at his face; there was still one shot remaining.</p>
<p>"P-please… mercy…!"</p>
<p>"'Mercy'? I am sorry, but I am afraid I am all out of mercy… considering you chose to prefer treason over absolute loyalty. Your services are no longer required." Before he could squeeze the trigger, a faint howling can be heard in the distance.</p>
<p>"*Aroooo!*"</p>
<p>Ser Loreon's ears perked up at the sound which causes him to stop, allowing the rebel to swiftly withdraw to a safe distance. <em>Wolves…</em> He quickly re-mounted his horse as more of his vanguard converged onto his location before the Lannister soldiers reported screaming, steel clashing and horses neighing in terror. The sound of torrential downpour and thunderbolts were adding to the chaos surrounding Riverrun as well as its surrounding areas throughout the Riverlands.</p>
<p>"My lord!" a Corporal reported. "Report from the main camp: our left and right flanks are under siege! They're sabotaging our mortars!"</p>
<p>"Then that means our siege weapons are practically useless."</p>
<p>"But who—"</p>
<p>"It's Rodrick Stark," Loreon stated plainly. "Get the men into position. We're going to be in for a wild fight."</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>"NOW!"</p>
<p>"Y-yes, my lord!" the soldier panicked.</p>
<p><em>Using the severity of the storm to launch an ambush, render our siege weapons momentarily useless, and encase us in a double envelopment to prevent us from maneuvering… Very clever of you, Stark. But it still will not be enough to beat me. </em><em>I</em><em> still have the greater numbers.</em> Loreon had estimated they were more than several hundred yards along the countryside closing in. In due time, the main camp would launch an immediate response; despite most of the Lannister forces being placed on the frontlines, the main camp would still be heavily defended.</p>
<p>"*Aroooo!*"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>"*Neigh!*"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>More of his men were yelling and horses neighed with fright as more wolves snarled and leaped upwards to take them down along with their riders. Those fortunate enough to keep their gunpowder dry were able to get off a single shot before the wolves tore at their throats; others, however, were able to keep them at bay with their swords long enough to pull out their daggers to finish the distracted beasts off. Loreon spots one wolf sprinting towards him, mouth agape, but one of his troops bats it aside. A second one rushes from the hills, leaping onto the back of the rear vanguard's neck; Loreon slashes at wolves staring at him before a crossbow bolt soars through the air and slams into his shoulder, piercing his armor. The sudden impact causes him to exclaim with surprise but maintains a firm grip on the reins of his horse as it rears its front legs up.</p>
<p>Loreon snaps off the end of the bolt then turned his head and chuckled darkly because standing directly in front of him tossing aside a crossbow mounted on his stallion was Ser Rodrick Stark, heir to Winterfell and commander of the Winter Wolves. If he was here, then the Lannister commander concluded that his cousin Captain Tyler has failed to seize Wayfarer's Rest and was either forced to retreat past the Golden Tooth or was slain on the battlefield. The way Rodrick was staring at him through the rain, there was a distinct gleam in his eyes, like that of a direwolf stalking its prey: the lion. The suspense of it all brought forth a tingling sensation in the lion's spine.</p>
<p>"Ah, now… Now it's getting interesting," Loreon smirked and pointed his blade. <em>At last, I have you within my claws. </em>"Rodrick Stark, I challenge you! Face me now!"</p>
<p>Rodrick seemed unfazed and unsheathed his blade. "Your cruelty ends here and now, Loreon! Winter has come for House Lannister!" he responded.</p>
<p>Both men reared their horses and charged at each other. As their mounts kicked up grass, dirt, and mud, Loreon and Rodrick whipped out their flintlocks and pointed them at each other. In near-perfect unison, both shots were fired—however, the lead balls projecting out of the barrels shot their respective counterparts' long-range weapons out of their hands. Rodrick maintained a firm focus; Loreon, however, was amazed that someone could keep up with him.</p>
<p>
  <em>Not bad, but let's see how well you fare up close.</em>
</p>
<p>Wielding their blades high in the air, Loreon and Rodrick closed the gap and brought their weapons down to clash. Steel grazed against the surface, but the force of the momentum had inadvertently dislodged Rodrick from his horse. As he rolled in the mud, the Swift Wolf quickly got to his feet—discarding his wolf cloak from his shoulders and readied himself. Loreon turned his horse around and charged to make another pass still beaming with confidence.</p>
<p>However, what Rodrick planned had caught the lion unprepared. Lowering his head to avoid decapitation, the Swift Wolf quickly swung his sword sideways with enough force to cut off two of Loreon's horse's front legs from under him. The animal whinnies in pain and falls forward, flinging him off its back and into the mud with a grunt. As he staggers to his feet, Rodrick got close. Loreon narrows his eyes, grips his longsword, and assumes the knight's dance fighting style, ready to attack or defend. After a moment of locked gazes, Rodrick Stark and Loreon Lannister charge at each other on foot. Despite his prowess as a warrior, the lion and wolf found themselves to be equally matched. The soldiers around them were either busy fighting the rebels, defending the main camp, or fending off Razor's pack of wolves going for the horses as more Stark forces arrived to provide military support to the Tullys.</p>
<p><em>HAAroooooooooooooooooooooooo</em> came the answer from the far ridge as Harmond Umber winded his own horn. To east and west, the trumpets of the Blackwoods, Whents, Brackens, and Freys blew liberation. North, from behind Riverrun, Lord Brynden Mallister's 2nd Eagle Infantry Division added their warhorns. Men were shouting, wolves snarled and growled, snapping their long teeth to tear off flesh from man and horse alike. The horses were rearing along the grassy, muddy plains. With the arrival of 20,000 northern troops, the Stark forces bolstered the morale—causing the numerical gap between the royalists and rebels to close to rivaling each other respectively. All around each other, the mounted knights raised their lances and musket rifles, and the dirt and leaves that had buried the cruel bright points fell away to reveal the gleam of sharpened steel.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The crack of a broken lance, the clash of swords, the cries of "Lannister" and "Winterfell" and "Tully! Riverrun and Tully!", the terrified screaming of a thousand horses. Men shouted curses and begged for mercy, and got it (or not), and lived (or died). Men closed on each other from both sides cutting one down in the rain; a steel-shood hoof caught a dislodged officer in the face with a sickening crunch. The true Battle of Riverrun had come alive around Loreon and Rodrick as they remained deadlock in a one-on-one fight; both Stark and Lannister commanders were holding their own against each other with one combatant trying to establish a foothold over the other.</p>
<p>"Ngh! Not bad for a lone wolf, Stark," Loreon strained against the steel. "Mmm! A pity you have to die sword in hand."</p>
<p>Rodrick huffed, his voice straining as well. "You've never fought a Northmen before," he groaned. Both shoved each other away as they circled one another and clashed, again and again. "But you're forgetting one thing…"</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>He noticed another rider approaching. "Wolves… hunt in packs!" he shouted.</p>
<p>"BROTHER!"</p>
<p>Loreon heard the sound coming from behind him in time to see Brandon Stark leaping off his horse with his sword raised in the air before bringing it down; the Lannister commander reacted quickly by bringing his blade up to defend himself, though the surprise attack and force of the impact nearly caused him to fall to one knee. This was the opening Roderick was waiting for and rushed in for another offensive. Both Stark brothers teamed up against the lion of Casterly Rock with such ferocity. Loreon found himself on the defensive as each of his adversaries traded turns ringing the steel on steel. Briefly taken aback and found himself scrambling backward, Loreon decided enough was enough. He did not find any of this amusing anymore, and he was growing angry, unwilling to tolerate such insolence. Upon trading the next blow, Loreon's eyes never left his target and moved quicker; swatting Brandon aside before rushing Rodrick, forcing the Swift Wolf to back off.</p>
<p><span class="u"><em>Hear me roar</em></span><em>,</em> he recited his house's motto. "ENOUGH! All right. That's it. I'm done playing around with you. No animal in Westeros can rival a lion. House Lannister has no rival. None! So come at me, Starks… if you can."</p>
<p>Brandon noted the change in Loreon's posture. "He's getting serious. We might need to pick up the pace from here on out," he observed.</p>
<p>"I know," Roderick agreed. "We'll take him together. You go in slowly on the left, I'll cover the right."</p>
<p>"Understood, brother."</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>The brief flurry of fighting ended as swiftly as it had begun when all three swordsmen resumed their stance. Splitting off in two different directions, Rodrick and Brandon moved to engage Loreon—who was more prepared. Swinging their swords, theirs collided with Loreon who held up his with one arm as he pressed firmly against the flat end with his palm before swirling around to deflect as if there were nothing and no one else in the world. Steel rang as the lion's blade flashed upwards. Rodrick took half a step back to avoid being struck in the head; Brandon stepped left again before driving forward off his back foot, but his sword parried and was caught by Loreon's before the Lannister commander caught him across the edge of his ribs, leaving a bright gash when it bit into his leather lamellar. Loreon slammed Brandon aside and danced away.</p>
<p>Staggered, Brandon grunted yet stood his ground. Roderick brought his sword down with both hands but was met with Loreon's counter-riposte. The swords flew at each other and their steel songs filled the battlefield. Every parry was deflected, and the two wolves noted the lion's strength and ferocity. Throwing the younger Stark aside, Loreon was abruptly crashed into by Rodrick's shoulder charge and nearly threw him off his feet… but Loreon recovered, redirecting his attention towards the Swift Wolf before pressing the attack. No sooner did he turn one cut than the next was upon him. The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Loreon's blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke.</p>
<p>"Not so very confident now, are you?" the Lannister taunted.</p>
<p>Rodrick was forced to use a two-handed grip on his weapon to defend himself from Loreon's assault. High, low, overhand, they each rained down steel. Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, side slash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster… until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground.</p>
<p>"There seemed to be… more to you than… meets the eye," Rodrick took a slow deep breath, his eyes watching him warily.</p>
<p>Loreon whirled the blade back up above his head. "As if you could even come close to comprehending my capabilities," he said.</p>
<p>The Swift Wolf could not have said how long he pressed the attack. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours; Loreon drove him further away from Brandon, drove him across the field, drove him into the mud. Rodrick slipped on the wet, muddy terrain, and for a moment he thought he was done for, but he went to one knee instead of falling. Brandon recovered and swung his sword up to block a down-cut from Loreon that would have opened his elder brother from shoulder to groin, and then he cut at him, again and again, both fighting their way back stroke-by-stroke.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Grunting, Loreon came at them both with renewed vigor, blade whirling, and suddenly both Rodrick <em>and</em> Brandon were struggling to keep the lion's blade from their skins. One of Loreon's slashes raked across Brandon's arm and swirled to slash Rodrick's torso, drawing blood around their injuries. Both Starks felt their arms were going numb from the jarring they endured, and their longswords felt heavier with every blow after a swing.</p>
<p>"He's… so strong!" Brandon ached; the realization chilled him.</p>
<p>"Even with the two of you teamed up, you're still no match for me," the Lannister commander gloated. Utilizing his speed and skill, Loreon was able to hold them off and eventually wear them down. "I will admit, though, I was rather surprised by your strategy. I commend you for your efforts, but in the end, it didn't make a difference."</p>
<p>"Curse you, Loreon…!" Rodrick groaned.</p>
<p>"The Starks are an old, ancient family from a bygone age. For the new era to begin, the old must be swept away. Your treason at parliament was the final push Argilac and my father needed to eliminate the past so we can rebuild the world in our image. A good death is all you can hope for." Loreon pointed his sword at the Swift Wolf's face. "Last I checked, I hear you have a wife in Winterfell and a child on the way, right Rodrick? Perhaps I'll pay them a visit once we've conquered Riverrun."</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>Brandon struggled to stand but buckled down to one knee, with one hand on the pommel as support. "Don't you even go there, Lannister," he warned. "Is that how you all function now after 800 years? Your square jaw, your golden armor… Major Loreon Lannister, son of General Gerion and descendant of Lord Tyrion Lannister… the <em>Imp</em>… Do you even understand the damage you have done? How much you've dishonored your house? How do you lions live with yourself?"</p>
<p>"I'll remind you that our houses are at war. Sorry if this conflict has confused you but rebelling against the crown does have <em>its</em> consequences. Your big brother here knew that when he and the other traitors at parliament tried to instigate a coup. You can protest all you want. You can complain. It doesn't matter." He raised his sword in the air. "Because none of you matter. And if must slaughter every Stark, every Tully, Arryn, Greyjoy or whoever to realize my father's vision for the ideal world, then that's what I'll do. A world… I'm afraid you'll have to be erased from."</p>
<p>Before the Lannister of Casterly Rock and commander of the Lion's Pride 48th Elite Corps could bring down his sword, a singular shot rang across the battlefield—hitting the sword and forcing Loreon to backpaddle as more neared his feet.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BOOM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Rodrick and Brandon looked behind them to see the timely arrival of the Wild Trout's 24th Maritime Infantry Corps; all its members arrived bearing the sigil of House Tully, a silver trout leaping on a red and blue field. And leading at the forefront stood the General himself.</p>
<p>"Well, well… General Willem Tully, what a pleasant surprise," Loreon chuckled with amusement.</p>
<p>Willem huffed. "You've run rampant in my homeland for far too long, boy. But that stops now," he turned to the Starks. "You two let this pompous bastard beat you? Come on! Stand up!"</p>
<p>Utilizing the strength in their bodies, Rodrick and Brandon slowly rose to their feet ready to begin round two. "We're not… out of the fight yet, Lannister," the Swift Wolf declared. "In winter, we must protect ourselves. Look after one another. And you're going to wish you never made those threats."</p>
<p>"Oh?"</p>
<p>Willem dismounted. "Men! Assist your compatriots in defending our homes! The rest of you help the northern forces! Keep the lions away from Riverrun!" he ordered.</p>
<p>"Aoooorah! Yes, ser!" they replied.</p>
<p>"And you…" he stood between the Stark brothers, "I think it's time I show you what a <em>real</em> fight looks like. You two, let's show him what we're made of when it's three-on-one."</p>

<p></p><div class="ms-editor-squiggler">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The epic battle for control of Riverrun and the Riverland intensifies with the arrival of the Winter Wolves under Rodrick and Brandon Stark of Winterfell against the armies of Loreon Lannister; but even in the rain, even in close-quarters combat, the wolves were repelled by the lion's ferocity. From this we've caught a glimpse of how capable Loreon is when he gets serious. Luckily, Rodrick and Brandon were saved by the timely arrival of Willem Tully and his troops. How will the Battle for Riverrun conclude? Let me know.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Kraken's Daughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daemon encounters the ironborn</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—The Iron Islands—</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Pyke…</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>Sailing to the Iron Islands through the dense, heavy fog was rather endearing for the crew of the <em>Falcon's Flight</em>; the winds guided their sails, the captain steering the steam galleon through the Sunset Sea, and the engineers shoveling coal to fuel the oceanic vessel… As befitting the Age of Industry, ships ranging from merchant to military were incorporated with steam engines into their design along with resources sent to Westeros from its colony Mirantibus Spe—effectively making each vessel sturdier and faster than its ancient predecessors. Regardless, because the inventions were relatively new, almost all ships used a hybrid combination of both steam and sail power.</p>
<p>Daemon narrowed his eyes. "Qrimbrōstan sambrar (Cursed fog). Can't see a damn thing," he cursed silently.</p>
<p>"Captain!" Broden called out. "How far are we from Lordsport?"</p>
<p>"We should be arriving within the hour, lad!" the ship's captain responded.</p>
<p>Petyr, however, remained as apprehensive about the Iron Islands. They rebelled against the Baratheon dynasty twice and were almost wiped out entirely the second time they did so; nearly every ironborn—man, woman, and child—were buried underneath a pile of rubble when the Royal Fleet bombarded each of the archipelagos and the island chains themselves were rendered uninhabitable after being engulfed with wildfire caches. Of the few ironborn that were left, some were on the other side of the known world while one remained on the mainland; only House Greyjoy remained standing… but only due to the persuasion of Queen Sansa the Red Wolf.</p>
<p>After the War for Westeros ended, the Iron Islands began the process of rebuilding—and with aid from the crown, slowly began to show signs of progress. Under Theon's leadership, diplomatic ties to the mainland were established, the Old Way was banned, maesters were allowed onto the island, and thralls were freed as his grandfather Lord Quellon once tried to reform. Instead of reaving and pillaging, the new ironborn were instead sailors, explorers, and occasionally hired as privateers, tasked with carrying out assignments deemed too shady and scandalous for House Baratheon to deal with. Although their actions were critical in the War against the Band of Twelve and did have a seat in parliament, most continued to look down on the ironborn due to their history.</p>
<p>Relations turned sour once Argilac ascended to the Andalosinian Throne and worsened once they learned of their delegate Briala's execution. Once civil war broke out, the Iron Islands engaged in vicious naval warfare against House Lannister and House Redwyne at the Sunset Sea. Daemon heard rumors that despite the ironborn winning their fair share of battles and territorial gains, it was always a back-and-forth struggle—one party gains ground only to be pushed back by the other again. The ironborn were exceptional at naval warfare, on par with the Redwynes and second only to the Velaryons.</p>
<p>"Land ho!"</p>
<p>Daemon, Petyr, and Broden leaned over the edge and saw the Iron Islands. The shore was all sharp rocks and glowering cliffs, and the castle seemed one with the rest, its towers and walls and bridges quarried from the same grey-black stone, wet by the same salt waves, festooned with the same spreading patches of dark green lichen, speckled by the droppings of the same seabirds. The point of land on which the Greyjoys had raised their fortress had once thrust like a sword into the bowels of the ocean, but the waves had hammered at it day and night until the land broke and shattered, thousands of years past. All that remained were three bare and barren islands and a dozen towering stacks of rock that rose from the water like the pillars of some sea god's temple, while the angry waves foamed and crashed among them.</p>
<p>Drear, dark, forbidding, Pyke stood atop those islands and pillars, almost a part of them, its curtain wall closing off the headland around the foot of the great stone bridge that leaped from the cliff-top to the largest islet, dominated by the massive bulk of the Great Keep. Further out were the Kitchen Keep and the Bloody Keep, each on its island. Towers and outbuildings clung to the stacks beyond, linked to each other by covered archways when the pillars stood close, by long swaying walks of wood and rope when they did not. The Sea Tower rose from the outmost island at the point of the broken sword, the oldest part of the castle, round and tall, the sheer-sided pillar on which it stood half-eaten through by the endless battering of the waves. The base of the tower was white from centuries of salt spray, the upper stories green from the lichen that crawled over it like a thick blanket, the jagged crown black with soot from its nightly watchfire.</p>
<p>"A gold kraken, with its tentacles writhing and reaching against a black field; the sigil of House Greyjoy, Lords of the Iron Islands," Daemon observed. The banner streamed from an iron mast, shivering and twisting as the wind gusted. "Words are 'We Do Not Sow.'"</p>
<p>"I thought it was "What Is Dead May Never Die,'" Broden commented.</p>
<p>"No, that's a common saying among the ironborn. When someone says that here the other person responds with the phrase 'But rises again, harder and stronger.' Father once told me the previous Lord Reaper of Pyke, Dagon Greyjoy, was a ferocious sailor hired as a privateer in the War against the Band of Twelve."</p>
<p>"And Lady Briala was…?"</p>
<p>"One of his granddaughters and the ironborn representative in parliament," he confirmed. "The person we're here to see is… ooh boy."</p>
<p>Petyr raised an eyebrow. "Lady Asha Greyjoy, another of Lord Dagon's granddaughters and the current ruler of the Iron Islands. Queen of Salt and Rock, Daughter of the Sea Wind, and Lady Reaper of Pyke. Briala was her younger sister. Her flagship, the <em>Great Kraken</em>, is said to be the fiercest war galley made for battle and sank more than a hundred pirate ships in less than a year. Recently, by the time word was spread about Argilac disbanding parliament and having most executed, to say the Greyjoys were furious would be a monumental understatement. Word has it that Asha has deployed the Iron Fleet's full might against those who traverse too close to their shores along the Sunset Sea. They are under the command of its Lord Captain and Asha's brother, Commodore Harwyn Greyjoy—who's said to be as dangerous of a warrior as his sister."</p>
<p>"Then we should—"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BANG!*</strong>
</p>
<p>A lead ball whizzed past Daemon's head and pierced the hull of the ship. Someone had taken a shot at them!</p>
<p>"Pirates!" the captain yelled. "All hands on deck!"</p>
<p>"Pirates out here?" Broden searched.</p>
<p>"I told you coming here was a bad idea!" Petyr exclaimed as he unsheathed his sword and pulled out his musket.</p>
<p>"Where are they?!"</p>
<p>Daemon searched left and right but could not see anything past the fog. Several longships quickly come alongside the <em>Falcon's Flight</em> before the crew notices grappling hooks being thrown, with ironborn raiders and sailors drawing their ships closer. The multitude of ships is close enough for attackers to swing on ropes, cross from ship to ship. Guns and blades are drawn, both sides ready to kill each other before Broden notices many ironborn leaping onto the deck.</p>
<p>"My, my… a lost bird too far from home," one of the ironborn waved an ax.</p>
<p>"Mainlanders are not welcome here," another agreed.</p>
<p>"There's too many of them," the Mallister commander informs the group.</p>
<p>"I count 30 ironborn, and 12 of us," Petyr observed. "We might be able to take them—"</p>
<p>"We're not here to make more enemies," Daemon refuted. He tried a diplomatic approach. "We mean you no harm. We've come here to seek—"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>One of the ironborn used his musket rifle to ram Daemon in the gut, causing him to curl as he gasped for air. Petyr and Broden tried to intervene, but they too were held down by ropes and held at gunpoint.</p>
<p>"Not just any lost bird," one ironborn marauder examined. "A <em>Baratheon</em> no less!"</p>
<p>"Baratheon?!"</p>
<p>"Damn Argilac sent his men here to kill Lady Asha like they did Briala!"</p>
<p>"Drown them! Throw them overboard!"</p>
<p>"Offer them as a tribute to the Drowned God!"</p>
<p>More and more were beckoning each other to kill them. For a while there, it felt as if Daemon made a grave miscalculation as the animosity the ironborn held for his brother. Briala was, of course, ironborn like them… but she was one of their beloved politicians in the Westerosi Parliament whose proposals benefitted the Iron Islands and its people. One of the ironborn, however, pushed his way through the group and stared down at them. This ironborn was a large, muscular, and ferocious-looking man with long dark hair, wearing a heavy grey plate armor with a tall black kraken war helm on his head that had a decorated iron kraken whose tentacles coil down below his jaw, a cloak made of nine layers of gold cloth sewn like the kraken of his house and carried a steel battle-ax in one hand.</p>
<p>Petyr raised his head. "Commodore Harwyn Greyjoy," he stares at him.</p>
<p>"So you know who I am, do you?" Harwyn stated. "But you trespass in <em>our</em> waters. That makes you enemies."</p>
<p>"You're wrong!" Daemon refuted. "We've come here seeking an audience with your sister, Lady Asha!"</p>
<p>"For what purpose, whelp?"</p>
<p>"For help! We're trying to build a coalition against my brother, Argilac!"</p>
<p>"And how do we know you're not one of his—"</p>
<p>"DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I'D SIDE WITH MY BROTHER AFTER EVERYTHING HE'S DONE?!" he yelled, fighting the restraints as more ironborn held him down. "You hate Argilac, I get that. So does the Vale, Riverlands, and the North! Half of Westeros is revolting against him. Just… please take us to Pyke. I'll explain more there… if your sister wills it."</p>
<p>"Your Highness!" Broden cried out.</p>
<p>Harwyn grabbed a handful of Daemon's hair and lifted him off the ground, causing the rebel Prince to yelp in pain. Bloody hell, the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet was strong! He stared coldly into his eyes, temporarily releasing his grip, and quickly cupped his cheeks in one hand to catch him as he fell. The Lord Captain turned Daemon's face left and right, noticing some powder burns and some scratches; confirming that the youth had indeed engaged in battle.</p>
<p>"Take this one with us," Harwyn ordered his men. "His… companions, can wait here. Under guard. They are to not leave the Iron Islands until my lady sister renders her judgment."</p>
<p>"You can't do—"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>He backhanded Petyr across the face before he could protest. "If any try to escape, kill them all," he ordered.</p>
<p>Harwyn mounted his horse to escort the now-prisoner Daemon Baratheon through Lordsport on the way to Pyke castle; the rebel Prince's hands were chained behind his back and a rope tied around his neck with Harwyn holding the other end. He was leading him through the streets of a large assembly of ironborn sailors and fishermen shouting obscenities and curses at him. If Daemon somehow slowed down, the rope around his neck was roughly pulled, forcing him to run forward to stand next to Harwyn's horse.</p>
<p>The long ride to Pyke was as endearing as it was unpleasant. It was nigh on sunset when they reached the walls of Pyke, a crescent of dark stone that ran from cliff to cliff, with the gatehouse in the center and a single square tower. More than 800 years ago, there were originally three towers connecting; although since rejuvenated and restored, made anew, the Iron Islands still bore the scars left by the destruction inflicted by Daveth Baratheon's wrath. Daemon remembered the stories of his ancestor's war against the Greyjoys in the Second Greyjoy Rebellion as the sound of waves crashed against the cliffs before being dragged to ascend the twisting steps to the solar and into the main hall.</p>
<p>Sitting on the Seastone Chair was Asha Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands. Lean and long legs, with black hair cut short, wind-chafed skin with a faded pink scar on her neck, she was an attractive and bold young woman in soft green wool, simply cut, the fabric clinging to the slender lines of her body—but was wild and headstrong. Her dark eyes glanced up at the arrival of her brother as well as their new 'guest.'</p>
<p>"My lady sister," Harwyn knelt.</p>
<p>Lady Asha Greyjoy rose from the Seastone Chair. "So… the fabled 'King in the Narrow Sea' comes sailing through my waters as if he owns them, a fight breaks out on my island, and now he comes before me… dragged through the streets like a disobedient dog," she said.</p>
<p>"I came seeking you out, Lady Asha," Daemon tried to reason.</p>
<p>Outside the rain was falling harder than ever. Asha pulled out a dagger with her right and held onto an apple in her left; she used her dagger to peel off a bit of apple skin a put it in her mouth. As she chewed, a small stream of juice spilled down her cheek before being swept up by her tongue. A lock of black hair fell across her eyes. Her kraken guards were shouting for bread and bacon. They made a deal of noise, as few as they were.</p>
<p>"Tell me. Was our sister's body even cold before or after your brother decided to put bounties on our heads? Or was Argilac this maniacal from the beginning?"</p>
<p>All eyes turned to Daemon and were filled with both suspicion and resentment.</p>
<p>"My brother's been that way for as long as I can remember."</p>
<p>"And yet you let Briala die."</p>
<p>"I did not—"</p>
<p>"<em>You</em> let our sister die," she snapped. "The Iron Islands will never forgive your family for this outrage; as if the Baratheons had done enough to our people already."</p>
<p>"THEN BLAME ARGILAC AND GENERAL GERION, NOT ME!" Daemon snapped. "I had nothing to do what happened at the Westerosi Parliament! Lady Briala was one of Prime Minister Garland Mallister's supporters who called for a Great Council to peaceably remove Argilac from the throne before Gerion and his troops stormed the halls!"</p>
<p>
  <strong>*BAM!*</strong>
</p>
<p>Asha punched Daemon across the face, but the rebel Prince returned his gaze upon her.</p>
<p>"Are you done yet? Or do you still want to keep beating me?"</p>
<p>"You're either brave or got a death wish," she peeled the apple in her hand again.</p>
<p>"Perhaps a little bit of both," Daemon dryly responded. "But I'm sure you've heard what I'm doing out there."</p>
<p>"Yes, we've all heard the stories. Forging alliances with the Arryns, the Starks, the Tullys…" Asha leaned down and pressed her blade against his throat. "If I cut your throat right now, it'll send a message to your house."</p>
<p>"Kesā daor gaomagon ziry."</p>
<p>"What the fuck did you say?!"</p>
<p>Daemon stared into her eyes. "I said 'you won't do it.' Because if you do what you seem to suggest, then all you will be doing is helping Argilac win. And he will exterminate out every single ironborn until you are all wiped out. Every man, woman, and babe. Kill me and you lose everything again," he said coldly. "And deep down you know that. That is why I sought you out to invite you to join this alliance. Because none of us are beating Argilac alone. We are all you have left. So… Asha of House Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands, Queen of Salt and Rock, Daughter of the Sea Wind, and Lady Reaper of Pyke… what's it going to be?"</p>
<p>Asha felt her lip curl into a snarl; how a mainlander even approaches her in her hall and speak to her in that manner? From a <em>Baratheon</em>, no less? With the Iron Fleet at her disposal, she could easily take Lannisport and every city port along the western coast – but the Redwyne Fleet and Royal Fleet would only impede her path. She and her kin were excellent at naval warfare, but Asha remembered they could not take on the entire world by themselves—history has a way of reminding the ironborn of that. Her ancestors Balon and Euron Greyjoy both rebelled and were all put to the sword. She weighed her options.</p>
<p>"Take him to the cells," Asha commanded.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—The Vale of Arryn—</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>The Eyrie – High Hall of the Arryns…</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>Sitting on her weirwood throne, Sharra was busy shuffling through papers of various reports. After the latest attempted incursion against Gulltown by Argilac's fleet, coastal security has doubled, and merchant-lords began petitioning House Arryn. Granting permission to Ser Jacaerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships were successfully able to drive the Royal Fleet away from the Vale's major port city. By land or sea, any who attempted to invade was swiftly repelled.</p>
<p>But that was not her only issue.</p>
<p>Many of her vassal lords believe that Sharra must marry and soon if the Arryn bloodline were to continue. Already suitors were lining up like crows on a battlefield, but she had already rejected Ser Rupert's son Gyles Royce, Lord Vardis Belmore, Lady Anya's son Ser Sandor Waynwood, and Lord Tavon's son Ser Humfrey Corbray along with a dozen other potential suitors. Sharra had too much on her mind right now to worry about than marriage or having children… even if she believed her advisors were right. Regardless, her subjects loved her as a politician and diplomat. Negotiating and listening to her counsel provided Sharra the necessary insight she needed to help navigate the Vale through the ongoing civil war.</p>
<p>"You rule the Vale with such grace and elegance," a voice called out.</p>
<p>Sharra turned around. "Lord Jaqoros. Forgive me, I did not hear you approaching."</p>
<p>"My apologies, Lady Arryn. It is as the greatest Master of Whisperers in history once said, 'Our role is to be sly, obsequious, and without scruples.'"</p>
<p>"Who said that?"</p>
<p>"Varys of Lys," Jaqoros replied, "the Master of Whisperers to Kings Aerys II, Robert I, and Daveth I. As a capable a man I am, even my intelligence network pales in comparison to the Spider himself."</p>
<p>"I'm sure you have your own clever ways," Sharra replied.</p>
<p>"The birds sing in the west, the birds sing in the east, if one knows how to listen. Our role in court is to be a servant willing to do anything and everything for the crown without people knowing what we are up to. But only the genuinely great ones can keep their distance. They don't get attached to their agents." He sighed. "Speaking of our roles, I bring news from the frontlines."</p>
<p>"Oh?"</p>
<p>"My little birds inform me that Prince Daemon is brokering an alliance between the Tullys, Starks, and the Greyjoys. Your troops need supplies from the Tullys, but to acquire that they in turn need more military aid from the North and Iron Islands. If they can get it, the Riverlands will lend their full support."</p>
<p><em>Wha…?</em> Now THAT did surprise Sharra; Daemon was not normally one to be much of a diplomat no matter how hard he tried. But to hear the attempt at forming an alliance with three of the Great Houses of Westeros on behalf of the rebels… it felt as if was a monumental undertaking. "Will he pull it off?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Difficult to say, my lady. So far House Stark has pledged themselves to our cause. They're keeping the Lannister armies at bay for now. But wars can be won on or off the battlefield in more ways than one, I'm afraid," Jaqoros answered. "Information is key to victory. You need to learn your enemy's strengths and strategies. You need to learn which of your friends are <em>not</em> your friends—now that the Talons have shown themselves to be embedded within our ranks."</p>
<p>"Oh, for the love of…!" Sharra felt a headache coming. She had heard reports regarding the Talons, but never knew they could inflict potentially major damage. "How can we expect to win a war if we can't even trust our own people?"</p>
<p>"You don't sound very optimistic."</p>
<p>"Perhaps… perhaps I made a mistake by not acting sooner. Because of me, Daemon has got his hands full out there and I'm stuck here reading casualty reports in the thousands. But what can I do? My soldiers need a steady supply line to march by land or sea, of which we neither have nor possess. General Gerion and Argilac nailed us to the wall."</p>
<p>"It's the larger principle that matters, Lady Arryn. Everything you're doing is a delaying action for the King in the Narrow Sea. That's the reality. Do not blame yourself for being put in this situation. We all have our roles to play. So we're simply buying our revolution time, keeping our forces in the fight until we have a <em>real</em> alliance to challenge Argilac. But our treasury will soon run dry if this war drags on for too long. We'll be needing a Master of Coin to finance our efforts. Do you know any suitable candidates?"</p>
<p>"Myle Grafton has been one of my family's strongest supporters," Sharra recommended. "As the Lord of Gulltown, he's exceptionally good with finances. A prime example was in less than eight months, he's increased the town's income tenfold—the largest surplus in revenue since Petyr Baelish's tenure as customs controller. I'll forward his files if you want."</p>
<p>"We'll have a look at them," Jaqoros acknowledged. "Once Prince Daemon returns, we can submit Lord Gradton's file to him."</p>
<p>Before they could continue, one of the Vale knights came rushing in.</p>
<p>"My lady! Lady Arryn!" he shouted. "It's the Royal Fleet! They're making another push towards Gulltown!"</p>
<p>Sharra rose from her seat. "Get our soldiers into position! Tell Lord Admiral Jacaerys to keep the enemy away from Gulltown!" she commanded.</p>
<p>"Yes, my lady! At once!"</p>
<p>All three rushed to their posts; but within the shadows, a silent assassin peered around the corner with a sneer and sharpened his blade. In due time, the next Talon will strike.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Daemon experiences his first—but rather unpleasant encounter—with the Greyjoys of Pyke; as most ironborn still blame the Baratheon dynasty for the demise of one of their MPs, winning them over will not be easy. Especially Asha and her brother Harwyn. Meanwhile in the Vale, Sharra is informed of another attempt from Argilac's fleet to seize Gulltown; but unbeknownst to her, a silent stalker lurks from the shadows. Who will he target next? Find out soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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